


Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III - Rainbow in a Cloud

by Annejackdanny



Series: Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rianbow Series [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kidfic, Little Daniel - Freeform, M/M, Slash, Young Jack O'Neill, h/c, sg-1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annejackdanny/pseuds/Annejackdanny
Summary: Jack goes 'home' for the holidays to visit his parents and mend fences with his estranged father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: 
> 
> This story is actually the third story in the Rainbow Series. I finished it in 2016 already, but held it back because I wanted to write and post the second story in the series first. As things went my muse took a hike and was absent for most of 2017 - and only appeared again in November, which means I am working on the second story, but won't be able to finish it this year. So - I am posting out of order, something I almost never do. I don't want to keep this story in the closet til next Christmas and you can read this without having read the missing piece - it is only slightly connected to this story anyway. 
> 
> LD is 12 in this story which is set at the end of 2007, he's found friends besides Al. You already met Tara in the first Rainbow story when Daniel turns 11 and she is mentioned several times in this one, but doesn't actually appear. 
> 
> Set after the defeat of the Ori. There are flashbacks to the final Ori mission which we know as “The Ark of Truth”. However, since my verse has gone away from canon it would be helpful if you have read the previous series in the SJD verse to understand some of the references in this story – for example the slight Highlander (The series) crossover regarding Methos and his role regarding the Ancients.
> 
> A little warning - there is mentioning of CP in flashback/memories here, nothing graphic though.
> 
> I based tiny little bits of Jack's background on RDA's background, but mostly I made it all up. So this goes away from the known canon or fanon where Jack grew up in Chicago etc. 
> 
> I was lazy about names, too, as you'll figure out soon :) :) It's just a little quirk and a bit of fun. If you recognize how many names I stole from other fandoms, tell me and I'll tell you if you're right :p I WAS trying to be subtle though. 
> 
> Sorry for the loooong notes... I'm done now :D

**Rainbow in a Cloud**

 

“I was afraid that I'd forgotten all the colors of the rainbow, but I know just where I can find them again.” **  
****―**[ **Megan Shepherd**](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5108399.Megan_Shepherd) **,**[ **The Secret Horses of Briar Hill**](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/45262610)

  


**I**

_Enim lupin purnum pravus intus._

_Enim lupin purnum pravus intus._

_Enim lupin purnum pravus intus._

_The chant goes on and on, the words swelling to a chorus, a tornado, an all consuming booming in Daniel's head, convincing him that his brain will explode from the sheer power of it._

_**ENIM LUPIN PURNUM PRAVUS INTUS.** _

_The words drown out anything else until all he knows, all he is, are these words… until darkness mercifully descends upon him, taking him away, as the words keep filling him like an empty vessel…_

Verily, the corrupted sinner will be cleansed from within.

_There is a cut, as you see in the movies sometimes, when one scene suddenly ends and the next one starts without transition, without fading._

_The words have stopped, but he can still FEEL them in the back of his mind._

_And then there are other words._

“ _Don't give up. Not now.”_

_Methos' voice_ _floats_ _into his semi conscious mind. He knows he is lying on the ground in a dark place. Cold is seeping through his clothes, chilling him to the core. His head seems too heavy to raise, so he just keeps it down, resting_ _on_ _his arm. Everything hurts, every move is too much, all his energy drained from him a long time ago._

_He is empty. Except for…_

Enim lupin...

“ _Don't let them win, Daniel.”_

...purnum pravus intus...

_Daniel shakes his head and instantly regrets it. Too much pain. Everywhere. “What's the point?”_

_But Methos' voice doesn't go away. “I'm here to help you.”_

_Daniel opens his eyes and blinks owlishly at the First One of the Ancients in his ascended form sitting beside him. He is so tired of these games. So tired of them all. “Then help me.”_

_There's no point in asking for any kind of active help, he_ knows _that._

“ _I am. I'm encouraging you. You can do it. You just have to try… try… try again. However, there_ _is no_ _unlimited amount of time.”_

_Daniel rolls onto his back, groaning. “No.” He comes up on one elbow. “No. I tried. We tried. We found the Ark, we did all the dirty work for you – again. I'm done. And, I'm not in the mood for games.” He tries to sit up, but his body doesn't want to cooperate anymore. All his body wants is sleep._

_In a fleeting thought he wonders what happened to Sam. She stopped screaming a while ago, or maybe just a moment ago, he doesn't know. Time has no meaning. God, he hopes she's unconscious. He doesn't want to think of the other possibility. He tries to grab for a straw of emotion. Worry, Sam, hope, fear, Sam… but it fades away…_

_Methos' annoying voice won't go away, but at least its slowly starting to drown out the chant. “You know how complicated it is. Interfering with the lower planes is tricky.” Daniel wants to grab him and punch his lights out for being so arrogant, so indifferent all the damn time._

_Anger. That's an emotion, too. He focuses on it._

_But instead of fueling him with energy the anger_ _raises_ _tears of frustration in the back of his throat and he can't do anything to keep them in and so they start trickling from his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. Everything lost. All the battles, for nothing. And_ _this_ _moron is talking about none-interfering rules. All they fought for is going to hell and still the Ancients cowardly refuse to make a stand._

“ _Yeah, I know. Helping me is forbidden, and letting me know you're helping me, well, that's... worse,” he croaks._

_Methos sighs, a gust of air brushing against Daniel's damp cheek. An attempt to comfort him, maybe. “I know the Ori need to be stopped. We all know. That is why we gave mini-you the vision which helped you to find the Ark.”_

_Daniel nods. “And that was all the help you were willing to provide. Using him to give us hints, visions, dreams. Never more than that. We found it, we almost died trying to use it. And before that? We got rid of Anubis for you, then the replicators. NOW we tried getting rid of the Ori for you and you still just sit back and watch.”_

“ _The Ori are a danger to the whole universe, not just the Ancients,” Methos says. Even in his ascended form the echo of his voice in Daniel's mind has that slight British accent._

_Daniel snorts. “I think you already owe us big time. We deserve the Ancients' help in return.”_

“ _Yesss, you probably do. Sadly, we are still bound to that none-interference rule and while we gathered many new followers who are determined to change things...”_

_Daniel angrily wipes at his face. “Then, then help us! Or leave me alone.”_

_Methos is hovering over him, whispering in_ _his ear, “Look, all you have to do is to use the Ark on one single Prior. The crystals in their staffs are linked to one another. It's how the Doci communicates with all of them at once. If you can turn just one of them, the Ori's power can be broken. They feed off the Priors and the worshipers' beliefs. Once the Priors are turned away from them, the worshipers will follow and the Ori will suffer, their power will drop.”_

_Daniel shakes his head. They had tried. They had turned attached it to the 'sterling throne', it's power base, and turned it on, they hadn't been able to make it work. The crystals inside the Ark needed a specific combination. “How?” he spits out. “Tell me how! Just this once give me something to really work with!”_

_But the First One disappears and all Daniel can do is watch him fade away._

_A hooded figure slowly walks up to his cell. Daniel falls back to the ground, hopelessness washing over and through him like a suffocating blanket, taking his breath away. He keeps staring at the Prior standing outside his cell._

_The Prior brushes the hood back_ _off_ _his face._

_Daniel sits up, struggling to process what his eyes are trying to tell him._

“ _No,” he whispers brokenly._

_It is Teal'c._

_And it isn't._

_Teal'c's blind milky eyes are staring into nothingness. His pale ashen face, covered in tattoos, remains blank. He bows his head in something resembling a greeting. “Hallowed are the Ori.”_

“ _No!” Daniel yells it over and over again. “No! Teal'c, no!”_

_Teal'c points his staff at him…._

  


_..._ He shot upwards, cold sweat running down his spine, his legs trapped in something soft. Gasping for air, he tried to get free and only succeeded in toppling over and almost falling…

Out of bed.

Panting harshly, he sunk back into his sheets and reached over to the left side of the bed, blindly searching for… “Jack?”

But Jack's half of the bed was empty.

Daniel slapped both hands over his face and groaned. He let out a string of curses and got rid of the blanket wrapped around his legs. As his heartbeat slowly returned to normal reality seeped back into his consciousness and broughtdown his adrenaline level.

He was home.

Safe. The universe was safe. Teal'c hadn't been turned, that was just a figment of his recurring nightmare. Teal'c had freed them from their cells. In the end the Ark of Truth had worked after all. Daniel had made the Doci see the light and turned every single Prior away from their masters.

And Sam… Sam had gotten them home.

The Ori were gone.

Getting rid of the imprint the Ori war had left in his mind, all their minds, was another battle, one that needed time and strength. A strength Daniel knew was in him somewhere, but needed to be rekindled.

The Ori had chewed them up, sucked them dry and spat them out.

What else was new, though? Years of fighting the Goa'uld had done exactly the same. But it seemed harder and harder to shake the aftermath. Harder to appreciate the joy of a victory- when there actually was one.

Daniel rubbed his face, as if he was trying to chase away the last lingering threads of his nightmare, and slipped out of bed.

*** * ***

Jack nipped from his glass and closed his eyes briefly as the amber liquid burned on his tongue and ran down his throat to his stomach, leaving a warm trail on its way.

It was cool in the living room, the fire had died hours ago. New ice flowers were slowly forming outside the panorama windows. Temps had gone down another notch somewhere between the evening and oh three hundred.

The backyard was caked in a frosting of snow reflecting the moonlight, illuminating the trees and creating bizarre shadows on the ground.

Jack considered getting dressed and climbing up to the roof for some star gazing, but laziness won over the beauty of a clear and brilliant sky to watch. Besides, Jack had hoped for clouds. Clouds meant snow. Snowstorms, maybe. Closed roads, no flights…

No such luck apparently.

He heard the soft footfalls behind him when someone came down the two steps into the living room. Jack didn't turn around, but instantly leaned into the bed-warm body when two arms snuck around his middle from behind and a gentle kiss was dropped on the curve of his right shoulder.

“Hey,” was whispered into his ear, Daniel's voice hoarse from sleep.

“Hey.”

“You're cold. Come back to bed.”

“There're plenty of snow storms 'round this time of year. Why not now?” Jack took another sip of his whiskey.

“Mother Nature is a bitch?” Daniel nuzzled a spot just under Jack's right ear.

“Does Oma Desala control the weather?”

Daniel snorted. “Who knows? Maybe she likes to annoy you.”

Jack peered into his almost empty glass. “If I get drunk as a skunk tonight, could I use it as an excuse to miss my flight?”

“Jack...”

“Maybe the truck will break down on the way to Denver...”

“You'd have to take a later flight. Would give you a day, wouldn't get you out of going.”

“You're not helping,” Jack pointed out a tad grumpily.

“Yeah, I know, sorry.”

Daniel stepped back and Jack immediately missed the warmth. A hand took the glass from him and Daniel downed the reminder of the whiskey as he appeared next to Jack in the window reflection.

“What exactly did your mom tell you?”

Jack managed to stomp down the sudden flare of irritation. Almost. “We've been through this...”

“Humor me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to talk about it. Because you've been brooding and in a rotten mood all day and Little D and I aren't putting up with that.”

“I'll be gone tomorrow so you won't have to put up with it much longer,” Jack snapped.

“Stop being a dick.” Daniel didn't even sound mad which made it hard for Jack to continue bitching.

He sighed. “You know what she told me. Just the basics. He had a heart attack, she wants me to come...”

“Your dad. Your dad had a heart attack,” Daniel pushed it. Hard.

Jack threw up his hands. “Fine. My _dad_ had a heart attack, I don't know how bad it is, I didn't ask and I don't want to go. I'm an egotistical piece of crap and a horrible son. Satisfied?”

“You're angry. Good. That's at least some response.”

God, now Daniel was channeling LD's shrink, the smart and youthful Doctor Murphy. Jack snatched the empty glass from his partner's hand and strode to the coffee table where the bottle was.

Daniel followed suit and gave him a long look. “The fact you are going to see him anyway makes you a bit less of an ass, by the way.”

“I'm worried about my mom,” Jack informed him curtly. “She was pretty shaken.”

Had to be bad. Otherwise she wouldn't have asked him to come. Jack doubted his dad knew she'd called. Which led him to think it had to be pretty bad. Bad enough for his mom to go against his father's orders to never invite Jack into their house again.

He hadn't asked if Jon was home or still hospitalized, hadn't asked for any details. He had told her he'd be on his way tomorrow.

What else was there to do but the decent thing, the right thing. While every fiber of his mind balked at the mere idea of going home.

Hell, he had no idea how he felt about this.

He knew what he was supposed to feel. But ever since he'd gotten the call, had heard his mother's voice, the unshed tears in it, the tremble and the words “Please come home, Jonny.” - she had called him Jonny for Pete's sake. She hadn't called him Jonny since he'd been, what, nine, maybe, ten, and decided he wanted to be called Jack from then on - he just felt numb.

He poured another Jack Daniels.

If anything he was angry because his holidays were screwed. They had planned to go to the cabin. It was supposed to be their first real vacation in years. Their bags were packed and waiting in the hallway, ready to be loaded into the truck tomorrow.

Only now Jack's bags would be hauled to Denver Airport while the Daniels were taking the truck to the cabin. Ironically they'd still be in the same state, just miles apart from each other.

“You haven't seen your parents since Charlie...” Daniel trailed off.

Jack shook his head. “I haven't seen my _father_ since Charlie's funeral. Met mom a couple of times after Abydos. And she called, I called. But there was too much stuff we couldn't talk about so we... stopped eventually.” He took another swallow of the whiskey and handed the glass to Daniel who sipped, once, and then put it down on the table.

Jack could see it in Daniel's eyes… all the things he wanted to say, all the questions simmering under the surface. A typical Daniel thing. And in this case Jack knew he'd have to spill eventually. In all the years Jack and Daniel had known each other Jack had never talked much about his family, had never gone to visit them, had never invited them here. Daniel had never asked, But now he wanted to know and he had the right to know.

But at least for the moment Danieldecided to curb his curiosity and most likely his worries and Jack was grateful for it.

Instead Daniel moved into his personal space and they stood there, foreheads touching, arms coming around each other, holding, squeezing. Jack breathed in Daniel's familiar scent, seeking all the comfort he needed from this.

However, there was something off about Daniel's body odor tonight. Not unfamiliar, though, just an underlying tinge of sweat, sour and like something spicy. “Nightmare?” Jack asked gently.

Daniel shrugged it off. “Water under the bridge.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack was well aware that, right now, he was using it as a diversionary tactic. But he was also genuinely worried and yet, he already knew Daniel's answer to this particular question.

“Nope. And you're changing the subject.”

“Can't blame a guy for trying.”

Daniel snorted softly. Then he murmured, “Let us come with you.”

“We've been through this, too.”

“Uh, nope, you've been through this. I wasn't quite done arguing, yet.”

Jack didn't break away, but he stiffened. In turn Daniel's large hands started roaming up and down his back.

“You're never done arguing,” Jack pointed out.

“There's no reason for you to do this alone.”

“Yes, Daniel, there is. Are. Multiple reasons. And I pointed them all out...”

“What? That your family doesn't know?”

“For starters… yes… And telling them now will give my dad another heart attack. And I mean that literally. Then there's the kid…”

Daniel raised his head. “We've lived with the cover story for so long, we won't let it slip to your parents. I'm part of your team, your best friend. The kid is my nephew and we were worried so we came along for moral support. We'll take a hotel room...”

“No.”

“Jack...”

“My mother's gonna fuss over you and insist you stay at the house and spend Christmas with the family. I won't make you and Daniel sit through the holidays watching your tongues all the time.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “That's not an issue.”

“I don't want to watch where I put my hands, the way I look at you, all the damn time on my vacation. We could as well spend Christmas at the mountain then. I won't play this kind of charade for my parents. If I ever introduce you to my family, I'll do it properly. Now is just not a good time.”

Daniel blinked. “Wow.”

Jack shrugged. “I'm too old to waste my time worrying about what they'll think. Actually, I stopped doing that a long time ago. It never came up and it was easier not to mention it, but if it comes down to it, I'd tell them. I just don't want to put this on them… especially my mom… on top of a health crisis.”

“Okay,” Daniel agreed quietly. “I still think you shouldn't do this alone, but okay.”

“Besides, we don't want to ruin the holidays for Carter and Pete, too. You guys go to the cabin. I'll join you if I can. It's just a couple of hours from Red Lake Falls.”

“They'd be fine. We can give them the keys to the cabin… but...” Daniel raised his hands in defeat. “I hear you.”

“It won't be much of a Christmas anyway,” Jack said. “Especially if my dad is still at the hospital. We'll hang around there, drink bad coffee and keep him company. And believe me, he won't be great company. If he's well enough to gripe and grumble, that's what he'll do.”

“I know,” Daniel deadpanned. “If your attitude at the infirmary is anything to go by...”

Jack grimaced. But he actually hoped his dad would be griping and grumbling all he liked. Because it'd mean he was on the mend. Or getting there. Jack was very conscious about the fact that the main reason he didn't want to go and see his folks was that he and his old man had to mend some fences, had to face some stuff and come clean with things.

He didn't know if he was ready for that. Or if his father was. But ready or not, apparently now was the time.

Daniel nudged him. “Come back to bed.”

“Nah, sleep's out the window.” He was going to make coffee, hot and strong, and wait for the dog to show up and demand to be let out.

Daniel wouldn't budge. “Sleep's overrated.”

Then again… “What'cha have in mind?”

“Snuggle?”

But Jack saw that familiar steely glint in Daniel's eyes and knew there was hunger for more and much darker needs than snuggling.

Apparently it was one of those nights.

Again.

“Basement,” Jack ordered, following a familiar routine. The couch down there had seen more action over the last couple of months than their own bed because they could get a lot more vocal down there. Jack had started thinking about moving their bedroom, but hadn't had the time to actually do it yet. And in a couple of weeks their sex life would probably return to normal anyway.


	2. Rainbow in a Cloud Chapter II

**II**

“So, what are they like?”

“Who?”

“Your parents.”

“Like most parents.”

“I don't really know what most parents are like. My experience with parents comes down to very few memories, a couple of the worst kind, some who tried... and the two of you.”

“What category do we fit in?” Jack raised his eyebrow at the rearview mirror.

“That depends on the situation. And you're changing the subject.”

“What subject?”

Daniel heard the huff of annoyance from the backseat. LD was not amused and apparently not in the mood for Jack's stalling tactics. “Fine. I get it. Never mind.”

Jack waggled his eyebrows again. “What?”

There was no further reply and Daniel assumed LD had retreated to the sanctuary of his iPod again. He had spent most of the drive listening to music or audio books. Daniel didn't know what the current favorite playlist contained.

Jack took the exit towards I-70 West.

Daniel twisted around until he could see LD slouched on the backseat, earplugs firmly in place. He was staring out the window, one hand absently stroking the dog's head.

“Yay, you shut him up,” he said quietly, sending a glare in Jack's direction.

“Yeah.” Jack smirked. “Did you notice how that's getting easier these days?”

“Yep.”

After a moment of driving in silence, Jack squinted at the rear mirror again, then gave Daniel a glance. “Aw, c'mon, Gavin says it's just a puberty thing. It'll pass.”

“Is it?”

“It's not?”

“I don't know, you tell me. You're the one who claims to be the master of 'How to handle and take care of Little Daniel 101'”

“The master? I've written it. I've made it an art.”

Daniel waited him out. After all there was no place to go. Outside the landscape rushed by, billboards and far away buildings the only spots of color in the wintery white and gray.

“It's been a hard year,” Jack said finally, sobering. “For all of us. All those crazy work hours, crappy missions. Sucks up all your energy. Gavin says he's doing pretty good under the circumstances.”

“Now we know what Gavin thinks...”

Jack scowled. “What do you want me to say, Daniel? Yes, I've noticed he's a bit sensitive lately, yes, I know he's taken to sulk rather than argue sometimes. He's 12 going on 42… call it puberty or midlife crisis, it pretty much sums it up.”

“I'm just saying we need to keep an eye on this.”

Jack sighed. “Oh, believe me, I am. Both eyes.”

Daniel echoed that sigh, if only inwardly. “I know you do. Sorry.”

“Hey, he's a lot better now than he was in the summer,” Jack perked up.

“Ye-ah.” Sometimes it felt like Jack had done most of the needed parenting alone over the last year while Daniel had mostly been off world chasing or being chased by the bad guys.

LD had grown some, his light hair had slowly started to turn a bit darker and his face was in the process of losing some of its childlike features and becoming more angular. Of course Daniel had seen all those changes develop over the last year, but he hadn't consciously noticed them, they hadn't been in his focus.

His focus had been on the next mission, the next fight, the next steps. So had Jack's, but Jack hadn't gone off world with them. Jack had at least spent some quality time with LD here and there in between one crisis after the other.

They passed a truck and several SUVs, but there wasn't much traffic today. The worst of the holiday rush would start tomorrow.

“Damn, we really need this vacation,” Jack growled.

Daniel leaned back and closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah. We do. But things are as they are, nothing we can do about it now.” He reached over and squeezed Jack's thigh.

“God, I hate it when you're acting all grown up and reasonable when I want you to...”

“Whine with you?”

“I'm a general, I don't whine.”

“Bitch? Sulk?”

Jack snorted and slapped Daniel's arm. “Got any snacks?”

There were power bars and some Baby Ruth's in the glove compartment. Daniel opened a Baby Ruth for Jack and let him have a bite.

“Oh yes, feed me, babe,” Jack said husky voice.

Daniel rolled his eyes, but complied. God, he had been looking forward to the holidays. Going to the cabin, their sanctuary of quiet and peace – undisturbed for at least a week. A rare and much needed treat. No SGC, no Air Force at all. Just them and the great woods, the pond, snow - okay, Daniel could do without the snow, but there was no chance in hell they'd escape the snow in Minnesota this time of year.

Bottom line was that they would have gotten away from it all. Sam and Pete were only going to join them for two days before heading to North Dakota to visit Pete's family.

Apparently it wasn't meant to be.

Teal'c was the only one who had already left Earth days ago to see his son and Kar'yn and to spend time with his newborn grandchild.

“Look, I want you to take your time with your parents. Don't rush things, we'll be fine, okay?”

Jack's eyes didn't leave the road, but he nodded, scowling.

“You only have one father.” Daniel cringed. He hadn't wanted to say anything like that, but it had slipped out before he could hold back.

“I know.”

“And I know you don't want to talk about it, him, or about whatever happened between the two of you, but...” _Once he's gone, there will be no turning back and no more absolution for either of you._

“I know that, too.” Jack's voice was gruff, but he reached out to rest his hand briefly on Daniel's knee.

  


By the time they reached Denver International Airport and Jack parked the truck on level 6 Little Daniel had put his iPod away and was giving Daniel a run-down of the reading material he had packed and uploaded on his iPad for the holidays.

“Are you planning on holing up inside all the time?” Jack asked, tongue in cheek.

“Well, you wanted to teach me cross country skiing...” LD paused, then continued more upbeat, “Maybe Sam and Pete can show me. And it can't be too hard to learn if it's not going down hills.”

Somewhere down the line after the downsizing LD had started to acquire a liking for rock climbing, hiking and martial arts. For Daniel, who did the usual work out at the SGC to stay on top of the game out in the field, exercising was a means to an end, something he had to do in order to stay fit. Given the choice of spare time activities sports wasn't high up his to-do list. Little D had found a balance between both worlds – Daniel had seen him read a book while working out on the treadmill.

LD checked Flyboy's harness to make sure he couldn't get out of it while he had to wait for their return. “We'll be right back,” he crooned, giving the dog a small treat before getting out the truck and shutting the door.

Flyboy turned his back on them and dropped his head between his front paws.

“That's one sulking dog.” Jack looked like he wanted to stay and sulk along with him, but he shouldered his bag, grabbed the handle of his carry-on and together they headed for the elevators.

Jack had checked in from home already and printed his tickets so they didn't have to stand in line at check in and could go straight to the waiting area where they had to say goodbye.

“Call when you're there,” Daniel said.

“Yeah and back at ya. Try to avoid Minneapolis...”

“We'll skirt around it.” Daniel had done the long drive to Jack's cabin often enough to memorize most of it. And then there was GPS now.

Jack turned his undivided attention to LD. “Make sure BD and the dog won't get lost, eh? And don't fall into the pond.”

“Ja-ack, please. Can we skip this? It's been years since I fell into your pond.”

Jack raised his hand, signaling defeat. “All right, all right, gotcha. No more pond jokes.”

“Thank you.” LD rolled his eyes and brushed back his long bangs.

“My dad was a pilot,” Jack said out of the blue. “Before he retired.”

Both Daniel's simultaneously raised their eyebrows. “Really?”

“Air Force?” LD asked.

“Nope. He had a small airline. Air taxi and cargo. He took people on flights over the Big Bog.”

“Big Bog?” LD's nose crinkled. “Sounds stinky.”

Jack grinned. “It's swampland. I think it's a reservation today. Very remote area, mostly too wet to hike in summer, but pretty cool to look at.”

“What about your mom?”

“She was a cook. Worked at the high school cafeteria.”

“While you went to school there?” LD asked, a look of pity on his face.

“Nope, I got lucky for the most part. My younger brothers not so much. I think she started there when I graduated, or maybe the year before, don't know, but I didn't see her much at school.”

“Good. I know what it's like to have my paternal units work at the same place as I.”

“That bad, eh?”

“You have noooo idea.” But he grinned as they hugged and Jack remembered not to ruffle LD's hair, which was good. Daniel's younger version was in a weird place at the moment. Mostly he was what Jack called his 'normal-Daniel-self' and then he would suddenly withdraw or let out the 'upgraded version of the tantrum monster' he used to be after the downsizing. Not that there were real temper tantrums now, just flares of anger, door slamming and snippyness. Nothing too dramatic – yet.

Daniel and Jack had said their personal goodbyes at home this morning so there were only nods, looks and crooked grins now. Then Jack grabbed his bags, gave them a little wave and a moment later he was standing in line for security.

They waited until he had passed through the scanners and was on his way to his gate.

Daniel stretched and nudged LD's elbow. “Coffee to go?”

“Oh yeah!”

“Starbucks it is then.”

The Starbucks they found wasn't crowded so it wasn't much later when they returned to the truck loaded with coffee and a box of blueberry chocolate muffins. Since LD decided to keep the dog company in the back Daniel put the box on the passenger seat and his coffee into the mug holder.

He clicked through the radio stations as they left Denver and found one with old country songs. Daniel wasn't too much into country and western music, but somehow he liked to listen to it when driving long distances.

There was a low snort coming from the backseat. “I'll listen to my own stuff if that's okay with you.”

“Could be worse, could be Christmas songs,” Daniel teased.

“Or Opera,” LD groaned.

Daniel smiled fondly at memories of a rug in front of the fireplace, a bottle of Merlot and Italian aria floating softly from the speakers of the stereo. There were definitely some advantages of LD being old enough to go out alone… Still, it had been way too long since they had done anything like that. Romantic. Vanilla. Soft.

They hadn't been home enough hours in a row to indulge themselves in extended love making and if they'd been home and the kid had been away they were mostly too tired or exhausted to start any hanky panky. Instead they had developed a habit of slipping away into the basement at the darkest hour of the night to let their demons out and deal with post traumatic stress or whatever Gavin would call the whole fallout of their – especially Daniel's – exciting work life.

It brought momentary relief if nothing else and Jack was very skilled in that area.

But their fucked up sex life really was the smallest consequence of that fallout. Everything else had suffered. Family life had been reduced to meals, walks with the dog, watching a movie and talking about the Ori mess even when at home. There were upsides and downsides of living in a household where everyone was cleared and working in the same place. That no one had to put a lid on certain work related subjects was as much a blessing as it was a curse because they all carried the Ori home with them. They usually lived by the rule of 'keep the mountain at the mountain'. But that didn't always work out.

Jack had stepped on the brakes – hard – last summer when things had gotten too much out of hand and they had taken the effort to spend more time together as a family and find pockets of time to do things together, go to the movies, have team nights or just a DVD marathon at nights. It had helped, but it still hadn't changed the pressure they all felt coming from the threat the Ori posed to the whole universe.

Yep, they really really needed a time out, a time off, a time away.

Daniel doubted that a week of being together at the cabin would be enough to make up for months of hardship and sacrifices.

But it would have been a start. A good way of getting back to normal – however long normal was going to last for them.

He glanced at LD quietly sipping his coffee while he had half of the dog in his lap and his earplugs firmly in place.

As he steered the truck onto I-76 East Daniel caught himself wishing Jack's dad hadn't picked this particular Christmas to have a heart attack.

The country music station stayed with them for the next two hours and the songs turned more and more to holiday music. He caught himself humming along with 'I'm driving home for Christmas' by Chris Rea. The scenery outside hadn't changed much. Still snow and dark woods in the distance, or lit up industrial areas, billboards advertising the nearest MacDonalds or KFC or whatever – he didn't really pay attention.

They took a break on an Interstate service area somewhere in Logan County to walk the dog so he could relieve himself and have some water. Later Daniel watched with slight amusement as LD gassed up the truck and paid with his debit card.

Doing stuff like this was important for the kid. Touching base with his adult self in daily life.

When LD had slipped into the passenger seat, claiming the dog was hogging all the space in the back, they hit the road again.

A new radio station had to be found. LD fiddled and ended up with some awful rap, then moved on to pop music of the eighties and finally settled on some Oldies but Goldies station.

“Are we there yet?” he asked, grinning.

“Sure… in about twelve hours.”

“I could drive, you know?” LD gave him the innocent blues.

Daniel snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I can drive.” He shrugged.

“I know you _can_ drive. That doesn't mean I'll let you.”

“If we get caught we can say it was an emergency,” LD suggested brightly.

“If we run into a highway patrol and you are not at least as good as the Fast and Furious...”

“Hyper drive mode?”

“Didn't we make you look up the penalty for a minor driving without a learner permit this summer?”

“Yeah, but this time I'd be under supervision.”

“Which would probably mean they'd press charges against me because I let you drive,” Daniel said.

LD sighed. “Okay, you win.”

Daniel couldn't help but feel sympathetic. “It's only a couple years til you can apply for a learner permit.”

“Three. Two is a couple. And what about Teal'c?”

“What about him?”

“We let him drive in 1969 and he didn't have a license then.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “If we ever end up in another timeline, alternate universe, time frame, whatever, you can drive, okay?”

LD grinned. “I'll hold you to that.”

Daniel cringed. “That's probably coming back to bite me some day.”

They had just crossed the border into Nebraska when LD got a text from Sam asking where they were. After a bit of texting back and forth they decided to meet at a diner along the Interstate in Iowa.

“They are not as far ahead of us as I thought,” Daniel said.

“Sam said they didn't get to leave as early as planned.” LD shrugged and pulled his head phones out from inside his hoodie.

“What are you listening to?”

“Some… pop music.” LD fiddled with the cord of his plugs. “Stuff kids… teens… listen to now.”

“Oh. Any good?”

“Some is pretty bad. But there's stuff I like.” He shrugged. “At the center they talk about music and movies a lot.”

“So you're doing your homework.”

LD smiled. “Like any good anthropologist should.”

“But is it fun? Because, you know what Jack keeps saying...”

“If it's not work related it should be fun, yeah, I know, I know.” The boy pulled the iPod from the front pocket of his hoodie and scrolled through his playlist. “Yeah, it's fun, actually. Like last year when I read a lot of fantasy and science fiction. That was fun, too. I've never been much into any kind of pop music, but Tara put this together for me and I like lots of it.”

Ahhhh, Tara. Daniel tried not to smile, but failed and LD never missed a beat. “Stop it, she's a friend, that's all.”

“Hey, I didn't say anything.”

“Didn't have to say anything,” LD grumbled. “'sides, she's into girls right now.” He rolled his eyes. “At least that's the current state of affairs as far as I know.”

“Ohhh, okay. And you're into boys right now? Or are you waiting for her to change her mind?”

“You are spending too much time around Jack,” LD grumbled.

“What?”

“Playing twenty questions is usually his kind of game.”

Daniel laughed. “How am I doing?”

The kid glared and Daniel shrugged. “This isn't an interrogation. Tara is a nice...”

“She's not a 'nice' girl, Daniel. She's one of the cool girls.”

“Cool. Very cool.” He bit back a smile and decided it was time to return to solid ground. “Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

LD's glare lingered for a moment, then softened. “Okay. I'll forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Daniel deadpanned.

The truth was he was curious. LD had spent a lot more time at the Rainbow Kids Center this fall and winter. He had found friends there; Tara, the girl who had taken him up into the mountains for a vision quest this summer, and two or three boys Daniel knew. Until the Ori crisis had really gotten out of hand Daniel had devoted some of his own free time to the center and done workshops for kids who were interested in archeology and history. After his vision quest LD had been part of some of those workshops and then had tentatively started to spend more time there.

Tara had taught him to skate.

And so, slowly but surely, LD had developed a life outside the mountain, had finally started to focus on other things beside work, exercise, books and what little time he still spend with his friend Al.

On Little Daniel's journey through second childhood into his teen years this was a major breakthrough, but fact was that Daniel hadn't really been able to keep up with all the new developments lately.

Of course they knew what was going on with the kid, who his friends were and where he spent his free time. Jack had most likely done a background check on each of them and their parents and done his bit of subtly interrogating them on the rare occasions LD had invited them home. But it showed that they weren't living in each others pockets anymore as they used to, that the kid was now doing his own thing within his parameters.

And while Little Daniel himself chatted about what he was doing at the center, it rarely went beyond an overall run down of his activities.

So, yep, Daniel was curious. One would think that basically being the same person meant he usually knew what was going on in the boy's head, what all the little and big changes of moving into the weird stage of being a teenager were like. It was true that Daniel had a pretty good understanding of LD's emotional world and what drove him, but fact was that they had stopped being 'the same person' a long time ago.

Daniel had been an introverted kid, without roots or much encouragement and support from any adults in his life after his parents had been gone. He had thrived on his dream to become an archeologist like his parents, had anchored himself to that path and followed it, channeling all his passion, all his ambition into that goal. Books had kept him sane, libraries had kept him safe and off the streets, studying had given him joy and structure. He'd barely had a social life - partly due to being moved around a lot and partly because he had never thought he needed much socializing. College had changed things in a big way. Some of his fellow students had taken him under their wings and suddenly he'd had a couple of friends and a life. He had started to go out and discovered his love for coffee, a liking for wine and writing his papers at a Starbucks just around the corner. He'd discovered he liked doing poetry slams at smoky bars and hanging out with his friends during the day and studying at nights.

Eventually he'd even ended up with a girlfriend. Sarah had been his first and he remembered how he had discovered sexuality as something new and exciting, how he had soaked the new experience up and explored that new playground in the same way he embraced and savored everything that peeked his interest and curiosity. That time with Sarah had been real life experience and while it hadn't been happily ever after or even serious relationship material, it had been an eye opener about what life could be like outside the libraries and book worlds he had escaped to as a kid.

LD had gone through the exact same experience and they shared the same memories of their growing up. But when Daniel had altered the timeline by going back to Egypt to keep his younger version from being upsized, it had changed things. LD had gotten rid of a lot of the emotional baggage they had both carried around all their adult life. This second chlidhood had given him a chance to work through some trauma and grief.

He was such a different kid than Daniel remembered to be. He had grown up and into himself over the last couple of years, found a way to allow the man and child in him to co-exist. But now with puberty slowly creeping in, Daniel sometimes wondered how LD handled that. The new awakening of hormones, the mood switches... and he was just a the beginning of it all now. Would it be easier this time around because he knew what was going on with him and had the luxury to just let it happen and go with the flow without freaking over voice change, confusing emotions and all that stuff? Or was it harder _because_ he knew?

Daniel was glad little-him had a safety net; a family, friends, a social life – all the things a kid should have while growing up.

LD could re-live his youth and make conscious decisions on what he wanted from this second chance. Daniel thought that the kid had yet to figure out where he wanted to go, what his goals were this time around, if he wanted to stay with the Stargate program or branch out in a completely different direction. He had a feeling that Little D hadn't even fully realized or acknowledged that he could start over from scratch if he wanted to, that he could reinvent himself.

He was curious about that, too. Watching 'himself' grow up again and being an active part of that was the most weird thing he had ever experienced, but it was also something he wouldn't want to miss out on ever again.


	3. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**III**

Jack hadn't been home in a very long time.

He wasn't sure if he should still call this neck of the woods 'home'. Home was Colorado Springs. Home was where he had lived for the last thirteen years, where his heart was.

Home was were his Daniels were.

Yet, people called the part of the world they grew up in 'home' so Jack guessed Red Lake Falls still could be considered home to some degree.

He hadn't been home since the year Charlie had been ten. Jack had been on leave that fall and he had taken Charlie to see his grandparents for a weekend and to go to a hockey game. The game had been a surprise. His dad had gotten tickets from a friend and they hadn't told Charlie until it had actually been time to leave.

It had been Charlie's last hockey game ever.

It had been the last time Jack's parents had seen Charlie alive.

He stopped that particular train of thought before it could gain speed as he left Grand Forks in the gray SUV he had rented at the airport.

He put his sunglasses on as soon as he was out in open range, blinded by the brightness of snowed in farmland. He could make out the wide gray band of Red Lake River to his right. It dominated everything because it was the only eye catcher around here.

The upper part of Red Lake River was kept in a natural state with riffles and pools. Down here, however, it had been tamed and was relatively calm and smooth flowing. Beyond Red Lake Falls it turned west into Thief River Falls reservoir.

Where the Interstate turned right into Red Lake Falls the river parted and the tributary, Clearwater River, wound its way through town. Jack was sure he could still find all the good places to fish, catch frogs or go swimming. Then he remembered how long it had been since he'd played on the banks of the Clearwater. Most of his fishing holes and favorite places were probably gone.

Jack let the landscape slide by and tried to keep his mind in a blank state they had so efficiently taught him during his training years. This wasn't a damn Hallmark movie. He would not come home to find his father on his death bed or anywhere close.

A heart attack wasn't peanuts, but it could have been a minor one. A big scare, yeah, but it didn't have to be…

This could be Jon O'Neill's last Christmas.

_He's too stubborn to die. Boy, he's gonna be pissed when he finds out mom called me._

When Jack had been married they had taken turns each year, spending part of the holidays with either Jack's or Sara's parents. When Jack had been on assignment Sara and Charlie had gone without him.

Mostly Christmas at his parents' place had been about homemade food, lovingly arranged Christmas decorations, the huge tree, too many cookies and too much punch, loads of snow to play in and a cozy warm fire place to warm up later. That, and the ghosts of memories from long ago when Jack had still been Jonny. When summers never seemed to end and the winters had been one glorious joy of skating and snowball fights.

For Jack it had been a familiar mix of coziness and just that tiniest bit of uncomfortable underlying tension that had been part of his life at home as long as he remembered, but increasingly so from the time he had reached his teen years.

To his annoyance he felt that old tension build in his gut the closer to home he got. Little D had once told him being turned back into a child made the troubles of his first childhood appear more present again, brought them back to the surface like bubbles rising from the bottom of a deep well. Jack had thought he understood it then, but right now he really got it. He hadn't been turned into a kid, but he was driving home for Christmas and he could feel those bubbles rising already.

He left the Interstate at the junction of Red Lake River and Clearwater. Following the river into town he couldn't help but smile at how time seemed to have stood still around here. He passed farm houses, barns and snowed-in fields, orchards and vegetable gardens now fast asleep under their frozen blanket. Tidy homes with screened-in porches, tidy fences and – Jack was sure of it even though they were buried under several feet of snow – tidy lawns.

He passed a field with a giant balloon Santa Clause holding a sign for 'Last Minute Christmas tree sale – 50 % off'. Not many trees were left, but they had set up a booth where people mingled to drink punch or hot chocolate.

Jack circled around Sportsman Park then left the river behind and turned onto Main Avenue where he passed St. Joseph Church, briefly wondering if his parents still went there every Sunday.

He smirked at the memory of all the bold tactics and creative strategies he and his brothers had invented to avoid Sunday morning mass. It had been like a tug-o-war and sometimes they had even succeeded, other times not so much.

The golf club still existed and so did the Red Lake County Courthouse, an old red brick building. The schools, the baseball and football fields, the Blue Line ice rink… Jack had spent so much time in that rink as a youngster. Thinking back to it, he could almost smell what they had called hockey cologne. Sort of minty and musky, a mix of fresh-laundered hockey shirts, sweat, Bengay ointment, foot powder and the rubber of the walkways around the rink.

Jack hadn't been in an ice rink – or on skates for that matter - since he'd taught Charlie how to skate and hold a hockey stick.

The town's outskirts had grown quite a bit over the last ten years. New neighborhoods had appeared on what Jack remembered as farmland or run-down suburbs. Still a small place compared to the Springs, but not as small as it used to be.

Then he crossed the river again, turned left into Bottineau Ave and parked in front of 122, a two story farmhouse-style home on the back of a huge property. Closer to the road was the elongated warehouse which had served as hangar and repair shop. It had also held an office and there used to be a snack shop where all the O'Neill boys had spent at least part of their time working on weekends and during school breaks. The take off and landing strip had been out at the back of the warehouse and led all the way down to the lake where he and his brothers used to skate and play hockey.

As far as Jack knew 'O'Neill Air and Transports' had closed its gates several years ago and his parents had rented the warehouse and most of the property out as a private airport to town people with small aircrafts such as Cessna or sea planes.

Jack steered his SUV onto the neatly plowed driveway, leaving the dark hangar behind. He passed a couple of bare trees, rolled through an open gate, took a right turn and was faced with the house he'd grown up in.

He stopped the car and sat there for a moment, taking it all in; the typical white log walls, the long wraparound porch with its Queen Anne posts and railings, the old apple trees in the front yard. There were two more in the back, one of them so close to Jack's former bedroom window that he had used it countless of times to escape groundings or go out after lights out.

Jack noticed the formerly blue window shutters and front door had been painted a dark green at some point. Someone had shoveled the path leading from the driveway to the house. The large fir tree by the garage was decked in warm yellow lights just like Jack remembered it from previous years.

He wondered if Dean had come home for the holidays or if the neighbors had lent a hand. He hoped his mom hadn't climbed the ladder out here to put lights on that tree. He wouldn't put it beyond her though. Dorothy O'Neill could be a force to reckon with if she put her mind to it.

Which made it all the more weird that she'd been putting up with the old man's quirks all these years.

Jack texted Daniel to let him know he was here. Daniel replied only a moment later. They were still on the road somewhere on their way to the state border to Minnesota.

Taking a deep breath Jack started the SUV again and, carefully avoiding the trashcans and the postbox, parked in front of the garage. Not wanting to put this off any longer he got out, grabbed his bag from the backseat and got the carry-on out of the trunk.

“Here we go,” he muttered as he walked the stony pathway to the porch. The Minnesota chill bit at his nose and cheeks as if it wanted to welcome him home. Nothing better than Minnesota winters with their crisp cold air, the solid frozen lakes – and often pipes – and up to several feet of snow. His breath immediately turned into white small clouds. He trudged up the wooden stairway – the grit on the steps crunched under his boots – and used the ugly brass, hoop-shaped door knocker.

He seemed to be stuck in some warped time dilation field as he waited, listening to the footfalls inside coming closer. When the door opened and his mother stood before him all he could do was look at her, frozen on the spot, registering everything at once. How silvery gray her hair had become, how she seemed even smaller now than he remembered her to be, almost fragile. She seemed to have aged more than just the seven or eight years he hadn't seen her and Jack realized with a sudden stab of guilt that he probably was at least partly at fault here.

But it was still her and some of those added years fell off her as her face lit up in a beautiful smile. Her warm hazel eyes widened and she raised her hands to her mouth, whispering. “Oh, Jonny.”

Jack, feeling ten years old again all of a sudden, rubbed a hand through his hair and gave her a lopsided grin. “Hey, mom.”

That spurred her into action. Boxing his shoulder she snapped, “Don't you 'Hey Mom' me, young man! I haven't seen you in years and you're…” She shook her head, wiped her eyes in an almost angry gesture and then he was grabbed by his hands and pulled into the warmth of the house where he was hugged and kissed and hugged again.

He'd forgotten how strong she was, small or not.

Standing on her toes she traced his face with her fingertips and he felt heat rise in his cheeks when he saw the tears in her eyes. Tears he had caused. And he suddenly wondered how many of those tears she had shed in all the years he hadn't called, hadn't written…

He pulled her close and held her as she buried her face against his chest.

“You're really here.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

“I clicked my heels three times, Dorothy.”

“And the ruby slippers took you straight home.” She squeezed his middle one last time, then stepped back and brushed strands of hair out of her face. “Let me look at you!”

“Ah, it's just same ole me.”

“Nonsense, you look great. Tired, but great.” She took his hand again and he let her lead him into the large kitchen with the shiny scrubbed hard wood floor and the huge stove where she used to cook… still cooked… the large well-worn dinner table where they had had so many meals, played board games, done homework, crafted, cut out cookies… all the memories seemed to overload Jack's senses. This kitchen had always rung with chatter, laughter, sometimes crying, bickering, clattering of pots and dishes.

They had basically lived in the kitchen, which was probably as big as Jack's living room and dining room together.

Nothing had changed. The neatly stacked firewood by the backdoor on the other side of the room was still there, so were the old massive oak cupboards and cabinets and the huge clunky fridge in the other corner by the pantry door.

Jack's eyes strayed to the empty hook on the wall on the pantry door's other side. That's where his dad's belt used to hang. It had been put away and never hung there again once all the boys had left the house. Charlie had never known about the belt. Jon O'Neill had been a loving granddad.

As usual the fridge was covered in notes, recipes and shopping lists with those vegetable shaped magnets his mom had been using decades ago, their formerly bright colors of green, red and aubergine now faded. Some new ones had been added, little fruit magnets with smiley faces.

He shrugged out of his winter jacket and hung it over the back of a chair.

“I have coffee ready. Strong and black, the way you like it,” she said and he was pushed onto the chair, a mug firmly put into his hand.

He sipped absent mindedly, looked around, took a deep breath and savored the smell of turkey and gravy, cookies and cranberries and freshly baked bread. And spices.

It smelled like Christmas which helped him to relax somewhat.

“I am mostly done with cooking for Christmas Eve so all I have to do tomorrow is heat up the turkey and make the sweet potato casserole. And dessert. Oh, and bake fresh bread of course.”

“That's great, mom. Who else is gonna be here tomorrow?” Jack hadn't seen his brothers in years. He felt a sudden pang of happy anticipation at the thought of meeting them.

“Dean will arrive tomorrow morning. Angus…” A shadow fell over her face. “He's in India, it's hard to get a hold of him, apparently.”

Jack raised his eyebrow. “India, eh?”

“Yes. I called his company in Vancouver, but they said he's out of touch at the moment. He's building a school somewhere, for girls.” Pride laced her voice and Jack had to smile. Always the do-gooder, his littlest brother. Always wanted to be part of changing the world for the better. He and the Daniels would get along swell.

“Did you try his cell phone?”

“I did, but no luck.” She sat down oppositehim and folded her hands on the table. Then she jumped up again. “You must be exhausted and hungry.” A basket with bread and a bowl of soup was put in front of him on the table. Jack sniffed. Pumpkin soup.

“Mom...”

“Eat. Then we'll talk,” she ordered smartly and started puttering around, unloading the dishwasher – one of the very few luxuries she had allowed to be put into her beloved kitchen which, along with the rest of the house, had been built by and belonged to Jack's grandparents, Jack and Hazel O'Neill.

Once Dorothy and Jon had married they'd moved to Chicago where Jack and his brother Dean had been born. But when Jack senior and Hazel had decided to move out to the cabin for good – the very same cabin Jack now owned – Jon and Dorothy had returned to Red Lake Falls to take over the house and they had lived here ever since.

Jack ate his soup, another little piece of memory clicking into place. How he had always loved his mother's cooking. And his dad's BBQs. He paused, musing for a moment about the similarities here. The Daniels were both superb cooks while Jack could do magic on any grill. The Daniels kept teasing him by claiming he was best at cremating steaks and drowning them in beer, but they all knew they were just jealous of Jack's honed to perfection BBQ skills.

Which he had learned from the master himself.

Speaking of…

“Mom...” Jack pointed at the empty chair with his spoon. “Could you please...”

She brushed her hair back and, for a moment. just stood there in the middle of the kitchen, wringing a red tea towel with both hands. Then she sighed, threw the towel on the counter and flopped down on the chair. “How is the soup, Jack?”

“Delicious. How is he?” There was no point in putting this off any longer.

She folded her hands on the table again as if she was going to pray, then moved them apart, spread her fingers out in front of her as if she was inspecting her nails.

“Mom?” A cold hand clutched at his gut, but as he looked at her more closely he realized she didn't seem grief stricken or panicked. Something was very odd here.

“Your father is napping upstairs right now,” she finally said with a nervous little smile.

So not at the hospital. Good. “O-kay, but how is he?”

“He is fine.”

Jack blinked. “He is…?”

“Oh, under the circumstances he is fine. Doctor Harris said he needs a lot of rest and they put him on meds. He has to go back to the hospital for a check up after New Years.”

“He's not going to rehab?”

“They said it's not necessary.”

“So, there's no damage? He had a heart attack, but he's fine?” Jack tried to wrap his head around that.

“Well, he had a… it wasn't exactly a heart attack… it was more of a burn.”

“What?”

“They called it gastro esophageal reflux disease.” His mother looked at her hands.

Jack put his spoon on the table. “Heartburn? That's what it was?”

He couldn't believe this. He had sacrificed his holidays, his first leave in almost two fucking years. He had sent his family to the cabin to spend Christmas without him.

His mother said, “They admitted him to the CPU at the hospital and turned his insides out. We thought it was a heart attack at the time.”

“When you called me yesterday, did you still think it was a heart attack?” He didn't want to snap at his mother, but couldn't help it.

“No.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“No? Whoa, you really had me going there, mom, you put on quite a show. I thought he was gonna die. But I can assure you, he won't die from heartburn unless he's too stubborn to take his meds.”

He whipped his phone from the pocket of his jacket to look up the number of the Hertz store in Grand Forks. If he could drop the rental off in Duluth and stay at a hotel for the night Daniel could pick him up there tomorrow.

“Would you even have considered coming here if I told you the truth?” The tinge of guilt was suddenly gone, her voice hardening.

“No. And you know why. He doesn't want me here. He's made that very clear and I'm being a good son, respecting his wishes.”

“Jack, I was scared! He's never been seriously ill and when he broke down that day I thought this was it.”

“Turned out it wasn't though. Did it occur to you that I might have had plans for the holidays?”

“Your father is almost 80 years old.”

“He's 77.” Okay, that probably counted as being nearly 80...

“Jonathan Jack O'Neill! You will shut up now and listen to me!”

He winced and almost expected to be sent to the corner for a time out. He tried to hold her glare, but couldn't. So he put his phone down and waited.

Dorothy O'Neill took a calming breath and continued to glare, but her tone was calm, gentle even. “When he broke down and I called 911 all I could think of was that if Jon was going to die the two of you would never be able to make peace with each other. It wasn't a heart attack, Jack, but it could have been one.”

“It's not up to me. He threw me out.” Though it had just been the straw that broke the camel's back. The final cut. “Does he know you called me?”

She sighed. “No. And he won't be happy when he finds out.”

“Then I should probably just go.”

She shook her head. “You'd really do that, would you? After coming all the way from Colorado you'd turn around and leave right now. You are just as stubborn and thick headed as your father. You have no idea how much alike the two of you actually are!”

“That is so not true.” Except it was and they both knew it.

“Then stay,” she challenged him. “Stay and at least try to put things right.”

“I can't.” He picked up his phone, turned it over, put it down again.

“Why? Why can't you just once jump over your own shadow and reach out to him.”

Jack shook his head.

“At least answer me. You owe me that much, don't you think?” She sounded bitter now and when he looked at her he saw hard lines around her mouth and eyes. “I shouldn't have told you it wasn't a heart attack. At least you were worried enough to come out here when you thought it was.”

“Mom...” He didn't know what to say. God, he wished Daniel was here. Daniel was the one with the words.

“He can't put things right because he knows damn well I'm not the one who can give him absolution for what he did to his kid.”

Jack didn't turn to look at his father, but acknowledged his presence with a tense, “Dad.”

Dorothy rose from her chair. “I'll make tea.”

“Tea,” her husband grumbled. “All those herbs are gonna kill me faster than one cup of coffee a day.”

“Doctor's orders,” Dorothy said curtly as she busied herself with kettle and water.

“So.” Jon took the chair Dorothy had just vacated. “She lured you out here by telling you I was gonna bite the dust, eh?”

“Ye-ah.” Jack looked at the older version of himself. He had grown up with people telling him how much he resembled his dad, but had never given it much thought. Now he realized how true it was. Jon O'Neill had gained some extra weight, was a bit more heavy set than Jack, but he had the same angular face, the high cheekbones, the long nose and the same hair – even though it had gone completely white now while Jack's still was dark on the top of his head. Salt and pepper hair Daniel called it. Jack had inherited the chocolate brown eyes from his father, too. His mom's eyes were hazel with a touch of green and both his brothers had her eyes.

Jon returned the assessing look calmly and finally remarked, “You're not getting any younger either.”

Jack shrugged. “Got your knees to prove it.”

“It's an O'Neill trait. Bad knees.”

“I know.”

“Did you drive all the way from Colorado?”

“Took a flight from Denver to Grand Forks and rented a car.”

“If you turn back right now you could catch the night flight back to Denver.”

“I was going up to the cabin.”

Jon's white eyebrows shot upwards. “That place still exists?”

“Sure. Brushed it up a bit a couple years ago, painted the deck, replaced some logs, fixed the roof.”

“Thought you wanted to sell it.”

“Things change.” Jack had wanted to sell it after Charlie's death because he thought he couldn't deal with the memories haunting him there. But it had turned out to be the opposite. The cabin had given him a shelter to lick his wounds for a while after Abydos and continue a healing process that had started on that desert planet. Then he had wanted to sell it after Daniel's downsizing, but again he had changed his mind.

The cabin had been part of his life since he'd been a little boy. It belonged to him, was an extended piece of his soul and would hopefully continue to be an island of peace for LD, too, long after Jack and Daniel were gone.

Jon nodded thoughtfully. “Of course you kept it. It belonged to your grandfather after all.”

Jack realized with a note of wonder that he wouldn't have taken that bait even if he hadn't felt the small calming hand of his mother settle on his shoulder for a moment. Apparently those old digs his dad dished out didn't raise his hackles as much as they used to anymore.

Sweet.

On the stove the kettle started to whistle and Dorothy poured water from it into two cups. A moment later the smell of anise and fennel filled the kitchen.

“It's getting dark and it'll take you at least six hours to the cabin. I want you to stay the night,” Dorothy addressed her son as she put a steaming cup in front of her husband. She took her own tea and left them alone without another word. Jack didn't want to stay. He wanted to hightail it out of here and be with Daniel and the others to spend his holidays and his leave the way he wanted to.

Jon scowled at his tea, glanced at the door to the hallway, and pulled a small silver flask from the pocket of his black cardigan. He opened it and poured a tiny amount of amber liquid into his cup.

Jack raised his left eyebrow. “Medication?”

“Secret ingredient.” Jon took a sip, smacked his lips and nodded. “Much better. I suggest you haul your bag up to your room for the night. I guess we can act civilized for her sake.” After a pause he muttered. “She missed you.”

Jack stared out the large window into the dusky yard. The lights of the tree by the garage seemed to glow more brightly now. “You're not mad?”

“That she called you? Or that you actually showed up here?”

“Take your pick?”

Jon sipped his tea. Jack's coffee had gone cold by now, but he didn't care. He was tired and felt a headache coming as his adrenalin level dropped. When there was no answer forthcoming, Jack pushed back his chair and rose, stretching his abused back muscles.

He went to the front door, picked up his luggage and made his way across the hallway. As he climbed the stairs, listening to the familiar creaking of the fifth and seventh steps, he glanced at the family portraits on the walls.

A wedding photo of his parents, baby photos of him and his brothers – each framed baby picture also held a soft blond or red lock of hair taken at their very first hair cut – photos of graduations and one of Jack and Sara on their wedding day. All smiles and looking forward to a happy life together. They had been the greatest – for as long as it lasted. There was one of Angus, his youngest brother, sitting on some far away beach surrounded by dark skinned smiling children and one of Dean in full Chef gear. Of course there was no picture of Jack's graduation from the USAF academy.

His room – and later Charlie's room whenever he had visited his grandparents – was the first on the left, across from the master bathroom. Jack pushed the door open and threw his bag on the bed. He opened the window to let in some fresh air and then took a moment to look at the accumulation of stuff on the walls and every visible surface.

Like a damn museum.

His hockey trophies were still there on a shelf, so was his baseball stick leaning against the wall in a corner. His glove hung on a nail by the window. Charlie used to play with that when he'd been here. Jack shook his head at some weird shaped objects on another shelf, vaguely recalling them to be some craft project he'd done in first or second grade and then gifted his mom with. She had kept stuff like this from all her boys.

And then there were the framed pictures of Charlie on what used to be Jack's desk. He stepped closer and picked one up, smiling back at his grinning kid with the ball cap sitting askew on his head. “Hey, kiddo.”

Jack had developed the habit of climbing up to his roof platform late on Christmas Eve to talk to his son. He had started that tradition after Abydos when he'd been up there a lot, looking for Daniel's chosen home planet. He had told Charlie about Skaara, about that lighter he'd given him. Years later on one balmy summer night when Daniel had been with him, Jack had dared to ask Charlie for forgiveness. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done because even then he hadn't been sure he actually deserved it.

He wasn't sure about that even now.

“I won't be home this year, but I guess that doesn't matter much, huh? I'm at Gramps Jon and Nana Dot just in case you didn't know. Nana kept our baseball gear. I bet she kept your skates, too.”

Charlie was giving him the thumb's up, a gesture of victory forever frozen in time.

There hadn't been any photos of Charlie on the wall by the stairs and he wondered if Jon had ordered his mom to take them down.

Jack knew there used to be pictures of Charlie in the hallway. He had been their first and only grand child and they had practically worshiped the ground he'd toddled on. It had been thanks to Charlie that Jon and Jack had temporarily found a new foundation to build on despite all their arguments and differences.

Until Jack had screwed that up, too.

He brushed a tender finger over his son's happy face before he put the photo back on the desk. Jack had made peace with his guilt and the fact that Charlie was gone, but here, caught in a bubble of his past, the pain tried to creep back into the center of his attention.

He allowed it to have its moment. He had lost his fear that grieving properly would throw him back into that bottomless pit of guilt and self-loathing he'd been in that first year. Giving in to the pain when it surfaced was better and less agonizing in the long run.

It came. It went. It was part of who he had become.

He checked his phone for a message from Daniel, but there wasn't one. They had to still be on the road somewhere. Jack's irritation with his mother flared up again, but not with the same fierceness from earlier. She had done the only thing she could think of to get him here. He couldn't really blame her.

But he didn't have to like it.

He couldn't shake that overwhelming feeling of being in the wrong place. It felt like time traveling, coming back to a period of your life you know you don't belong in anymore. There was an echo of the kid he used to be everywhere in this house as he slowly descended the stairs, not even sure where to go or what to do.

Jack entered the living room and stopped in the doorway, captivated by the sight of the grand tree covered with golden tinsel and colorful doodads. As family tradition dictated his mom had hung gingerbread cookies on the tree and all the hodgepodge of ornaments they had created over the years. Every year the O'Neill kids had each crafted one new ornament to go on the tree. There was a lopsided clay camel with one broken-off hump, a glass bauble painted with clumsy snowflakes and hearts, many wooden carved donkeys, sheep and Christmas stars and one little raccoon, something unrecognizable crafted from tied twigs and glued on pebbles, painted-in-all-colors tin bells and other weird stuff.

By the fire place he spotted the nativity scene displayed as it had been every year. Jack's grandpa had carved each figure from wood and Grandma Hazel had painted them. Sheep, a donkey, the ox, a dog and even a cat had found a home in the stable where Mary and Joseph sat side by side, looking at their newborn baby in the manger. Two shepherds and the three wise men were also present.

One of the three wise men, however, lacked a bit of the artful grace his fellow companions displayed. He was carved in a more simple fashion and his features were less distinct. His painted on robes made up for it with vibrant colors and oriental patterns though.

Poor Balthasar had been the innocent victim of a brotherly squabble in which he'd been toppled over and his nose and one arm had been broken off and splintered. Jack couldn't remember who had started the fight, but it had been him who'd pushed Dean hard enough to land on his butt right in the middle of the nativity scene and on Balthasar in particular.

Dean - who had henceforth been known as the wise-men-bomber among his brothers – and Jack, had both paid the painful price for nuking the nativity scene and their slate had been cleared as it was usually done. But while his parents had been angry, Grandma Hazel had been heartbroken and little Jonny hadn't quite been able to shake the guilt for making her cry.

Jonny O'Neill had always carried a torch for Grandpa Jack. He and Angus had spent part of every summer out in the woods at the cabin with their grandparents while Dean had preferred to hang out with his cousins in Red Lake Falls instead.

Jack senior had served with the USAF as a pilot, but his real obsession had been wood. Once he'd resigned from active duty he had become a full time carpenter and a wood artist. As far back as Jack remembered, his grandfather had always been whittling away at some stick or piece of wood, there used to be wood shavings in his wake and he had always carried a knife and a small gouge with him.

Little Jonny had loved to watch him whittle and had pestered and pleaded until his grandfather started to teach him the proper use of his tools. Everyone had shaken their heads and his mom in particular had been worried because Jonny hadn't been a very careful or composed child. He'd been a fidgeter, hadn't been able to sit still for a minute and he'd never walked, he'd always run. Dorothy once mentioned that she had been sure her son would accidentally hurt himself or others in the process of learning how to whittle. But Grandpa Jack had apparently recognized a kindred spirit in his grandson and sat him down to teach him. And Jonny had paid attention and focused on what he'd been doing. Not right away but little by little. Working with the wood had calmed him, grounded him.

It had fulfilled him in a way the young boy hadn't known to be possible before. Not even playing hockey had had this magical effect on him and Jonny loved hockey more than anything else.

“That's because you're creating something with your own hands,” Grandpa had said.

There had only been one other thing he had experienced in his youth that had an even stronger effect on him – pure joy and the feel of freedom. But that hadn't happened until later. Working with wood had been Jonny's first real passion that didn't include the words 'ice' and 'hockey' or 'skates'.

Maybe Jonny had felt so guilty after damaging Balthasar because he had broken something his beloved Grandpa had created with his own hands. Maybe it had been the tears on Grandma Hazel's face when she had taken the broken pieces into her hands and carried them out of the room. He had been too young to understand why he still felt so awful even after he'd been busted.

He had slunk out of the house and into the garage later that day where he had found Grandpa Jack examining the broken Balthasar with his keen eyes.

When Jack senior had noticed the boy standing in the door he had beckoned him over. “What do you think, Jonny? Can it be fixed?”

Jonny had sadly shaken his head. “No, sir.”

Jack senior had turned the figure over in his hands. “You're right.”

Jonny had gnawed on his bottom lip and shuffled his feet. “I'm sorry.”

“I know.”

“But it's not enough.” Jonny had taken Balthasar into his own small hands and brushed a finger over the smooth round head.

“What'd ya mean? You got what you deserved, didn't ya?”

Jonny shrugged. “I guess.”

His grandpa had given him a hard look. “But it didn't fix anything, did it? The wise man is still broken.”

“Can you help me make a new one, Grandpa?” Jonny had learned to carve simple stuff. A dog, a horse – albeit a clumsy one. He had never done anything nearly as artful as his grandpa did.

Grandpa Jack had smiled and ruffled his hair. “That's the attitude I want, boy.”

It had taken Jonny many hours and fits of frustration before the new Balthasar had seen the light of day. But he had managed to finish him for Grandma Hazel to paint before they had left to go home to the cabin and then there had been tears again, but this time it had been the good kind of tears.

Jack found himself smiling at the memory, but there was also a pang of loss, something he hadn't felt in years when he had thought of Jack senior. His grandfather had been the only one who had never lost patience with him, had never told him he was too wild, too careless or too annoying. Jack Sr. had let him try new things, had let him test his own limits – and if Jonny had fallen out of a tree or toppled over and bruised himself in a particular daring bike stunt, Grandpa Jack encouraged him to try and try and try again.

Jack mused that his Grandpa would have been great with LD.

He had stopped working with wood at some point. Probably when he'd entered high school and found new interests, new friends and other hobbies to pass his time.

Jack had been on assignment when his grandpa passed away and only heard about it when he'd been on leave. By that time he'd had long stopped spending his summers at the cabin and he hadn't seen the old man in quite a while. He had grieved, he guessed, in his own way, but never gone to the cemetery. He wasn't a graveyard guy, he'd never been to his son's plot either except for the funeral and one other time with Daniel – in his quest for closure.

When it came down to it Jack didn't believe in graveyards.

Jack Sr. spirit was still at the cabin and Charlie would always be in Jack's heart.

He stood in the warmly lit living room, again not sure what to do next, when the deep toll of a ringing bell caught his attention. It took a moment to register that it was the dinner bell. As long as he had lived in this house his mother had used that bell to gather the family in the kitchen for meals or if she needed all of them in the same room for some reason.

Following the call of food Jack sauntered into the kitchen to find his mom stirring a pot. “We're having pumpkin soup for starters and then angel hair pasta with tomato sauce and pesto.”

Jack refrained from reminding her that he'd had a bowl of pumpkin soup an hour ago. His mother wouldn't budge and make him eat anyway.

On auto pilot he started setting the table. Everything was still where it used to be. Plates, flatware, soup bowls, glasses, pot coasters.

When they sat down to eat, his father's untouched plate and bowl was the glaring evidence of Jon O'Neill's opinion of his son's presence. Jack had no problem ignoring that. He had honed skills in dealing with acts of silent protest, the battle of wills and targeted provocation – years of dealing with Daniel, both of them, and the brass in DC had taught him well.

His mom did her best to make dinner a comfortable affair. She chatted lightly about his brothers (“Dean has expanded his delicatessen store up to four branches, two in Duluth and two in Minneapolis ~~.~~ ” and “Angus came home last summer to recover from a back injury. I hoped he'd find a girl here and stay, but he's never managed to settle down in one place. He sends postcards from all over the world, wherever his company sends him. I have a pretty big collection. I love all the colorful stamps from India, Honduras, Mexico.”), the neighbors (“Do you remember old Nels Oelson? His son, Nels junior used to run the mom and pop shop, but he is doing time at Red Lake County jail now, something about drugs and mugging.”) and others Jack could only vaguely remember or had never heard off in the first place. Something about the Beckett wedding scandal involving a runaway groom, Alex Reid's pregnancy and the betting pool on who the father was, the local doctor or another local doctor, Old Mrs. Walton's dementia and Ernest Pratt's tendency to be drunk every day of the week except on Sundays when he and his wife Penny went to church…

At first Jack made all the appropriate noises and even managed to ask a question here and there, but soon he felt like he usually did on those USAF shindigs where he was required to make small talk and smile – and reverted to veiled sarcasm as humor or putting on his patented blank look unless Daniel was with him to keep him entertained. It was ridiculous how often he had to be present for those kind of events ever since he'd gotten the second star. During the height of the Ori crisis he had often used the excuse of being indispensable at the mountain to avoid representative duties.

There had to be at least one upside to anything even if it had been a very small blessing.

His mind wandered towards Daniel. Daniel who was still shaken by nightmares _ever since_ he'd gotten home from that final Ori battle. They all probably were. Jack's nightmares mostly consisted of SG-1 not coming home. Of Daniel dying out there somewhere alone while Jack was stuck behind his damn desk juggling with the lives of his teams by giving orders and hoping they were the right ones. He'd never been known for his lack of confidence, but sometimes - when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, reaching for Daniel's warm body next to his - he still thought he'd been better at sticking it to the man opposed to actually being the man.

His mom didn't run out of breath until she served him a generous slice of blueberry pie.

The Daniels had made blueberry pie for Christmas Eve dessert. Both of them could make a mean pie. His mom's pies however… He took a bite and, almost against his will, rolled his eyes in pure bliss. “Excellent.”

She gave him a wide smile. “You always loved pie. I hoped that hadn't changed.”

“Never gonna happen.”

She sat down again, her own slice of pie considerably smaller than his, and placed her small hands on the stained wooden table top. “Jonny…”

“I'm staying the night,” he replied before she could ask.

She sighed. “That wasn't what I...” She interrupted herself and frowned. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You could stay for the holidays. Dean will be happy to see you. I am so glad you're here. And whether you believe it or not, so is your father.”

“Oh yeah, I so feel the love there.” He grimaced and added a half hearted, “Sorry.”

She looked briefly at the ceiling as if she was praying for strength. Or maybe she was just rolling her eyes at him. “None of the O'Neill men have ever been overly emotional. Or talkative. As you very well know.”

“Yeah.” He had never been known for being either, very emotional nor talkative. But he had learned a thing or two which proved that old dogs could learn new tricks if they had a patient teacher. “That's a very convenient excuse for anything.”

His mother held his gaze. “He made you walk out of here and you walked. And you stayed away for more than ten years. Not because you were respecting his wishes, but because you were too stubborn and too proud to make the first step.”

“It's not that easy.” But he cringed because there was more truth in that than he was ready to admit.

“Then what? What can possibly be the reason for shutting us out of your life. Not just him – all of us. Me, your brothers… everyone.” She was still calm. If anything she sounded sad.

He didn't know how to tell her. How to make her understand.

He could hear the old grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.

He hadn't felt this tongue tied in a very long time.

“We both said a lot of things… that should've stayed under the rug. I didn't know how to fix it,” he finally replied flatly. “And then… lots of stuff happened on my end.” How was he supposed to explain Abydos, the Stargate, SG-1… ? The answer was as simple as it was frustrating. He couldn't. “I was on assignment a lot. Out of the country.”

She deserved more than lame excuses, but it was all he could offer in a way of an explanation.

“Then maybe Jon was right. He always said the military would take you away from us, estrange us. Maybe even more than any argument you and your dad ever had.”

Jon had never approved of Jack joining the Air Force, but then Jon O'Neill had hardly approved anything Jack had done, with a couple of exceptions. Jack following in his grandfather's footsteps had always been fuel for heated arguments.

Yet, there was truth in that, too. The Air Force, the Stargate Program in particular, had turned Jack's life upside down and forced him to make the job – and the people he worked with – top priority inhis life.

“I'm not making excuses here, mom, I'm just trying to explain.”

“Explain what? Why you stopped calling, writing, even to me?”

“He never approved of you still being in touch with me. I didn't want you to feel compromised.”

Dot's nostrils flared and she let out a bitter snort. “You leave my issues with your father to me, Jack. Staying in touch with you was my choice, and mine alone. Jon knows I wasn't going to play your stupid men games.”

“Men games?” He couldn't help but smile.

“Whatever you want to call it, I'm not part of it. I'm your mother, Jack. I lost my grandson and I tried hard not to lose my son along with him. But I can't force you to still be part of this family if you don't want to be.”

Jack didn't know what to say to that. Suddenly he had a strong need for fresh air so he quickly got up and left.


	4. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**IV**

  


“I don't believe this,” BD groaned as the truck came to a crunching stop.

“We're stuck,” LD pointed out the obvious and then couldn't help but snigger at BD's ground out, “Ya think?”

“Where's the joke?” BD pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as if to clear it.

“You channeling Jack.”

“Ah. Speaking of Jack… he said he'd called someone to plow through here.” They stared out the windshield into the heaps of snow visible in the truck's headlights. “Apparently that didn't happen.”

“Maybe it's just a drift,” Daniel said hopefully. His phone beeped. Sam and Pete who were right behind them wanted to know what was going on. Daniel told them they were stuck.

“There's a shovel in the back,” BD muttered and Daniel passed that information on.

“We have one too,” Pete said. “I guess it's Hi Ho Hi Ho… How far is it?”

“Not far. It's just around the bend…. Couple feet away.”

“That's doable. Let's dig.” The phone went dead and Daniel heard the truck door slam shut behind them a moment later.

BD sighed. “Right. The shovel should be somewhere under the tarp.”

“I have to find my winter boots first,” Daniel said, glancing at his feet which were stuck in his black sneakers. “They're somewhere under that tarp, too.”

“What? Why aren't you wearing them?”

Daniel shrugged. “I didn't think I'd need them until we're there. It's warm in the truck.” The embarrassing truth was that he hadn't put them on because Jack had told him to put them on. If Jack hadn't nagged at him to put them on he probably would have put them on. It was one of those things he felt incredibly stupid about later, but couldn't help doing sometimes.

BD threw up his hands. “Fine. You drive.”

Daniel blinked. “Really?”

“Yes. This once. And only because I'm not willing to wait until you've found your boots out there.”

“Cooool.”

“You owe me.” BD slipped out of the truck and Daniel quickly moved over to sit behind the wheel. He had to pull the seat forward in order to reach the pedals with his feet, but on the whole it wasn't a problem.

He watched BD and Pete shoveling for a while and when they waved at him to start the truck he bit his lip in anticipation and turned the ignition.

The tires turned and crunched and then he was free and started creeping forward inch by inch following the path the two men were shoveling. In the rear view mirror he saw Sam slowly move in his tracks.

There were tire chains somewhere in the truck's bed, but they weren't permitted on Interstates and Highways so no one had bothered to put them on. And most of the roads had been clear, even the forest road they had to take the last ten miles out here. But the last mile was nothing more than a dirt road and either the guy Jack had called and paid to plow had forgotten or it had snowed again some time last week.

Daniel didn't care. Driving – even this slowly – was giving him a total kick. He had only realized how much he had missed not being able to drive a car anymore when he'd done it this summer on the way to the vision quest spot Tara had taken him.

Thinking of Tara - who would likely spend most of the holidays at the center because she didn't feel particularly welcome at home – was like some bittersweet candy melting on his tongue. He hadn't lied when he told BD they were only friends, but…

BD waved at him to stop and Daniel stepped on the brakes very gently.

After another round of shoveling they started moving again and now he could see the cabin lurkingbehind the trees, a large black shadow in the starry night. One more soft bend and they were there.

They parked as close to the front door as possible and BD quickly went inside to turn on the power and the front porch light.

The next minutes were a blur of unloading bags, a grocery box and the small Christmas tree Sam and Pete had bought somewhere on the way. By the time they had everything inside Daniel's sneakers were clammy and his feet felt like popsicles, but he figured it was better not to whine. The bad thing was that he'd dug through what was still left under the tarp of the truck bed – and couldn't find his snow boots. He had a niggling feeling he'd had forgotten to pack them after all.

Pete and BD had brought in firewood from the shed while Daniel, armed with broom and dustpan, swept debris and dirt out of the old stone fireplace. He grabbed a flashlight and checked to make sure the chimney was free of nasty surprises like dead bats or old bird's nests.

“Do you need help with that?” Pete asked, watching cautiously as Daniel stacked logs and old newspaper pages.

“No, I'm good. But we need more wood if we want to keep the cabin warm all night.”

Pete lingered for a moment, but apparently decided Daniel was capable of starting the fire without burning down the cabin and left him to it.

Finally Daniel stepped back and wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving smudges of soot on them. “Oops,” he muttered and rubbed at it some more until the denim seemed to have absorbed it. “Fire's going!”

“Hot chocolate is a go… almost,” Sam replied from the kitchenette where she was stirring cocoa powder into hot milk.

They were all still wearing jackets, scarves and hats. The cabin was cold to the core. It would take a while to heat it up properly.

Pete barged in carrying another arm full of logs. “This should do for tonight.” He stacked them by the fireplace. “There's still plenty in the shed so we won't need to chop wood while we're here.”

“Daniel, can you get the blankets from the bedrooms? Looks like we have to snuggle up until it's warm enough.” BD pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands. “Someone tell me again why we wanted to spend the holidays at the coldest place in the USA?”

“You and Jack...” LD started, but was interrupted by Big Daniel's annoyed, “Daniel! Don't move!”

He looked down and realized he was standing smack in the middle of the pile of debris, ashes and old leaves he had swept out of the fireplace before starting the fire. “Oh, crap. I was going to...”

The broom was pushed back into his hand. “Let's try not to carry it all over the place, shall we?”

Daniel sighed. Having to shovel the road free had put BD in a bad mood and apparently he hadn't gotten over it yet.

He carefully stepped out of the dirt and swept it together again, then reached for the dustpan and hand-brush lying on the floor. “I was getting to it, but you wanted me to get the blankets,” he muttered.

“I still want you to get the blankets, but without all that dirt going everywhere.”

“Yes, mom,” Daniel snorted.

A slammed door was all the response he got.

He finished the job in the ensuing uncomfortable silence. When he returned from taking out the dirt, BD was throwing blankets on the couch and recliner. Sam was pouring hot chocolate into mugs.

Pete who was busy putting groceries into the fridge, called over his shoulder, “LD, can you get the tree stand out of the truck? It should be somewhere on the back seat.”

 _Can't you send someone who is actually wearing boots_ , Daniel thought, irritated, but swallowed it and reverted to just slam the door on his way out instead.

He paused on the porch and pulled the zipper of his jacket up to his chin against the cold wind. He looked at the dark sky and the twinkling stars. There was no moon tonight so it was even darker than usual. And aside from the breeze rustling through the trees it was very still. The pond was frozen solid, so there wasn't even the sound of water gently lapping against the dock.

Jack loved the solitude this place offered. And both Daniels had learned to appreciate it, too.

Yet, Daniel was torn on spending the holidays out here. He kept thinking of Tara being at the Rainbow Center tomorrow, probably making cookies or doing secret Santa or something like that. Daniel vaguely remembered he'd seen a note to sign up for a winter wonderland walk with torches after sun down. Maybe she was going to do that, together with some of the other boys and girls she used to hang out with, like Ron and Gray. Part of him thought it might have been fun to join in some of that, which was kind of weird … this tendency to actually hang out with other kids he had developed this last year. It was still new and a bit disconcerting.

Then he had the suspicion he only wanted to spend more time at the Center because of Tara, but he couldn't tell for sure.

He had considered inviting her to spend Christmas with him, Jack and Daniel, had thought long and hard about it and then ditched the idea, didn't even ask. He knew they needed this leave as bonding time, just them and the rest of SG-1. BD sometimes had this haunted look in his eyes Daniel recognized as a sign he was still working through that last mission on the Ori homeworld. Sam always seemed to look exhausted and tired these days and Teal'c was even less communicative than usual.

And then Daniel had no idea if Tara even wanted to spend Christmas just with him and his family. Maybe she would have flipped him the bird. And even if she had wanted to and if he had brought her up here… things probably would have turned awkward or weird or whatever.

But now that Jack wasn't with them and hadn't wanted them to come along, Daniel thought that they could have just stayed home and done Christmas at the house. That way he could have gone to the Center on Christmas day.

But everyone except Teal'c, who had gone to see his son, had been set on going anyway and he hadn't wanted to do the whining kid thing so he had played nice and not made a fuss. But now that they were here no one seemed to be in a mood for the holidays.

And he had a feeling not even that bedraggled little tree was going to change that.

On top of that his feet were now totally wet just because Pete couldn't go and get his stupid tree stand himself.

Daniel stomped on the irrational flare of frustration as he grabbed the stand and closed the door of the truck with a little more force than necessary.

“Get over it,” he muttered to himself and trudged back inside where he toed off his damp sneakers and socks and put them close to the fireplace. He rummaged around in one of his bags until he found a pair of soft thick woolen socks to pull on instead.

BD who was typing something on his phone while scowling at it cursed under his breath. He was slouched on the couch, one of the blankets tucked around himself. “Anyone have a net connection?”

Sam put the mugs on the coffee table and pulled out her own mobile. “Nope, no connection. Is that always an issue here?”

“Not usually. And there's no blizzard.”

“But lots of snow and ice. Maybe there's a server power outage somewhere,” she suggested.

“Great.” The phone was tossed on the table.

Daniel got out his own phone only to find it pretty much dead. So was his iPod. Not surprising – the cold tended to kill the batteries within minutes. Now he had to recharge both.

At least he had books with him for tonight.

Pete put the tree into the stand and Sam wrapped a light string around it, then they stood back and looked at it.

“Boy, it's an ugly tree,” she said.

“It was the only one small enough to fit in the truck with all the other stuff.” Pete tried to adjust some of the sadly hanging branches. “If we had some tinsel and some baubles...”

Sam shrugged. “Well, we don't. I didn't expect us to get a tree on our way here so I didn't haul any decorations along with us. The light string was on sale at the souvenir shop on our next stop but they had no baubles.”

Pete fiddled with the light string. “Sorry, I thought it'd be nice to have a tree here. I know there'll be a much better and brighter tree when we get to my family, but it's Christmas Eve tomorrow and…”

Sam sighed. “No, I'm sorry. You're right of course.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Ow! Damn, that's hot!”

“It's hot chocolate.” BD said from his spot on the couch.

“Thank you for the reminder, Daniel,” she muttered.

Pete gave up his attempts to adjust the tree and slumped down next to BD. “Doesn't look so bad from here.”

BD gave him a lopsided version of a thumb's up.

Once they had all squeezed on the couch, huddled under blankets and Sam snuggled into the crook of Pete's arm, they drank their hot beverage and LD thought it was finally getting warm in here. Flyboy, who had gotten his own blanket, was snoozing by the fireplace.

“We need to make a shopping list,” BD said after a while, suppressing a yawn.

“Are we still going with the wacko BBQ plan for tomorrow?” Pete looked around with raised eyebrows.

The BBQ had been Jack's idea. He had volunteered to handle the grill on the deck come snow or hail.

BD shrugged. “If anyone wants to take over Jack's part in this...”

No one volunteered.

“Okay, so no BBQ. Any ideas?”

“We brought mac and cheese,” Sam suggested.

“It's Christmas Eve tomorrow and you want to have mac and cheese?” Pete sounded seriously taken aback.

“I like mac and cheese.”

“You also like blue jello,” Daniel said.

“Yes. What's wrong with blue jello?”

“Everything,” both Daniels blurted out and Pete chuckled.

BD said, “What about fish? I'm sure we can get some fresh catfish or bass at the town's store.”

Sam visibly blanched. “No fish, please.”

“What's wrong with fish?” Daniel asked. He had never noticed Sam being picky about food.

“Everything,” she groaned.

BD raised his eyebrows. “Okay. No fish.”

“We also brought canned soup,” Pete deadpanned. “Goes with buns or sandwiches. Almost as festive as mac and cheese.”

Daniel couldn't believe this. “Why don't we just have MRE then?”

“Because we didn't bring any.” BD was back trying to get his phone to work.

Daniel had been looking forward to the BBQ. Grilled steaks and burgers, baked potatoes, salad, fresh bread and aioli dip. And a blueberry pie for dessert. He had made the pie a couple days ago and put it in the deep freezer. It was now in the cabin's fridge, ready to be eaten.

He wasn't the world bestest grill master, but… “I can do the BBQ.”

Pete eyed him skeptically. “You ever done this before?”

“Yes, actually, I have,” Daniel sniped. What was he, a baby?

“Nah, I'll do it. You better not mess with charcoal lighters. Though I'm not exactly looking forward to grilling in that cold.”

“Don't worry, I don't need a baby sitter. I've done this before. And I don't mind doing it,” Daniel tried hard to keep his temper in check. He wasn't a big fan of standing out there in the cold at the grill, but he had still loved the idea of a winter BBQ. Because it was something refreshingly different from the usual turkey dinner they'd had the last couple of years and because Jack had been happy as a kid in a toy store about having a BBQ for Christmas.

The least they could do was to try and keep the spirit going even if Jack wasn't here.

Pete shook his head. “If we're having a BBQ I'll handle it. No problem.”

“There's no need for you to handle it if you're not interested in doing it,” Daniel countered sharply.

Pete turned to BD. “It'd be nice if you could talk some sense into him?”

BD didn't even look up from his phone. “Daniel, stop pushing it. If Pete wants to volunteer, let him help. Pete, Daniel is capable of handling charcoal lighters and open fire, don't worry about it.”

“I'm not sure...” Pete started.

“I'm not pushing it, I said I'll do it and he doesn't even want to do it anyway,” Daniel sniped.

“We could go out for lunch tomorrow,” Sam quickly stepped in.

BD brightened at that and finally left his phone alone for a change. “There's a restaurant at the village. The food is nice. Maybe they'll even have a special Christmas offer. We should check it out tomorrow morning.”

Daniel threw off his blanket, got up and grabbed his bag. “I'm off to bed,” he muttered and left them to their dinner plans.

He entered one of the two bedrooms and tossed his carry-all into a corner. His sleeping bag was spread out on Charlie's old bed. BD had set one of the field beds Jack kept at the cabin next to it.

Daniel went into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth and then undressed to his petrol colored ski-underwear. He plugged his iPod into one charger, the phone into the other and plugged them in. That done he dug through his carry all and grabbed one of his books before crawling into his sleeping bag and switching on the small light on his nightstand.

Only the light didn't work because he was using the socket for his iPod charger.

Great.

At least he had found his winter boots at the bottom of his carry-all when he'd searched for the books.

He put his book on the nightstand and just stared at the dark ceiling. He considered going back into the living room, but he was still mad at Pete and somehow angry with everyone else, too. Yet, he knew he shouldn't blame them. Sure, it had been a long exhausting day and everyone was tired and it was hard to feel cozy when it was so cold in here. But it wasn't just that. To Daniel it felt like they all had ran a thousand mile marathon without taking a break and now the adrenaline levels had dropped rock bottom. Daniel hadn't been at the front line in the Ori war – he hadn't been off world at all this past year – but he had still been involved enough to feel the fallout from it, too.

The door to his room was pushed open, the dog came in and jumped on his bed. Daniel opened his arms and Flyboy settled down, pushing his large head against Daniel's chest, a prompt for cuddles.

* * *

Big Daniel groaned and put his phone away for good. There was no use trying to get it to work. No coverage. None. Nada. Now he and Jack couldn't even text or talk. He felt strangely disconnected and out of sync.

And he shouldn't. He was here with people he loved and at a place he called home away from home. That Jack wasn't with them was a clear downside, but it wasn't the end of the world, it wasn't a tragedy. It just sucked.

Big big time.

He leaned back on the ratty old couch, feeling one of the springs poking his butt. They had discussed getting a new one, but they didn't come out here often enough to make it top priority.

“Headache?” Sam asked when he rubbed his temples.

“Yeah. I got Tylenol somewhere.”

“Anyone want a beer?” Pete gestured at the front door. “I left it on the porch.”

Sam shook her head and snuggled deeper into her husband's arm. “I'm good.”

“No, thanks.” Daniel wondered if he should go after the kid, but figured LD probably needed some alone time. “Anyone hungry? I could heat up that soup...”

But they'd had dinner on their way here so no one felt like eating.

“Is there a church at the village?” Pete asked out of the blue.

“Yeah. Catholic, I think,” Daniel said. Sometimes it felt as if even the smallest township had at least one church, no matter how poor or how far away from larger civilization it was. People needed places to worship their god, gods, Ori… something to hold onto even if it meant giving up education, freedom… even if it meant they were brainwashed, would brainwash their children with the same bigotry and view clouding ideologies…

He stepped on the mental brake with full force. No point in going there.

The Ori were gone, their book of origin destroyed.

_Until the next promising guru comes along. Until the next false god wants to be master of the universe._

Daniel hoped that wasn't going to happen until he was old enough to retire, to have an excuse to not fight these kind of battles anymore, but he wasn't holding his breath. If he had learned one thing in his studies and his years on SG-1 it was that history tended to repeat itself. Because humanity and apparently most other beings, no matter which world, or which plane of existence, would never really learn from mistakes made by their ancestors.

“We could go to the Christmas Mass or a caroling service,” Pete said thoughtfully.

Sam straightened and they exchanged a look. Daniel could see his own feelings reflected in her blue eyes. She turned to Pete and took his hand in both of hers. “We never go to church on Christmas. What brought this up, hon?”

Pete shook his head. “I don't know. It was just a thought. The two of you seem a bit down and … well, it might help with the holiday spirit.”

Daniel coughed, trying to find the right words. Words of kindness rather than rudeness. Because what he really wanted to say was that he'd had enough of chanting and hallowed be… and priors and anything religious and that the last thing he wanted was to go to church and praise a god he wasn't sure he'd ever believed in.

“I don't think it's such a great idea,” Sam said softly.

“Maybe we're not really in the mood for the holiday spirit this year,” Daniel added lamely.

“Okay.” The great thing about Pete was that he 'got' things without questioning sometimes. He knew they had dealt with something big, something that had taken a toll on all of them. He didn't know any of the details, but he clearly understood the concept of being temporarily burned out by the job. “But we should do something fun at least. For LD's sake. So let's go with the BBQ after all. He really seems to want to do it.”

Daniel didn't have a problem with that. None of them were as eager to do it as Jack had been, but if LD still wanted to do it, why not?

“The grill is in the shed,” Daniel recalled. “And there should be a radiator for outside use in one of the bedrooms.”

“Perfect. I'll check the grill out tomorrow,” Pete said.

“LD can do it. He wants to be in charge of it, let him.”

Pete looked doubtful. He couldn't know that LD had as much experience with charcoal lighters and grills as any of them and that the 'kid' used to live on a planet where any kind of food had been cooked over an open fire.

“Trust me,” Daniel said with a smile. “He can handle it.”

“Okay,” Pete repeated. “I know he's pretty independent. Where did he learn to drive, by the way? He seemed to handle Jack's truck like a pro out there.”

Daniel and Sam exchanged another look. “Jack taught him,” Daniel said quickly. It was the first thing he could think off. “Just… you know… for fun. We don't let him drive anywhere on public roads.”

“I'm amazed Jack let him actually touch the steering wheel of his truck,” Pete joked. It was a well known fact that Jack O'Neill loved his F250 the way only a guy could love his truck.

 _If Jack knew I let the kid drive his baby…_ “Jack is cool with that,” Daniel said with a wide fake smile.

“Cool. Hey, I'll get our bedroom ready. Do you want me to heat it up, Sam?” Pete kissed her and left the couch.

“Yes, please. If there is a heater...”

“You can use the radiator, but better turn it off when you go to bed. It shouldn't run the whole night,” Daniel said.

“Gotcha.”

When Pete had left and closed the door behind him, Daniel let out a huff. “Do you think he bought it?”

“What? That the general taught Daniel to drive his truck?” Sam actually giggled at the thought. “I don't know. But the question is, will Pete ever mention it to the general?”

Daniel slapped both hands over his face. “Oh, I'm SO dead.”

“I could probably prevent that from happening. Tell me you got me a Nesspresso machine for Christmas?”

“Sure. Whatever you want. I'll even wrap George Clooney up with it.”

She laughed again and Daniel grinned, enjoying the easy banter. This was something they all treasured highly – that ability to keep the humor, even if it was only sarcasm at times, no matter how little there was to joke about. When Jack had still been in command of SG-1 he had made it a mission of his own to entertain his team with bad jokes and inappropriate sarcasm when things had gone awry and no matter how annoying it had been at times, in the end it probably helped them to pull through and keep their spirit up more than they would ever have admitted. Sometimes it had been easier to focus on being mad at Jack for being cocky and irritating than having to think about the very real possibility of dying in some rotten dungeon or in the dirt or a godforsaken planet.

When Sam had taken over command she had first tried her best to keep that up, but she was better at actual real pep talk and encouragement without veiling it as jokes or pushy bitching. Yet, probably because they were so used to it, Daniel had become the one with the inappropriate sarcasm and bad jokes now, at least from time to time.

“Are you okay, Daniel?” She edged closer on the couch until their shoulders touched. “Is LD okay?”

He stretched his legs and tipped his head back against the rough wooden wall, gazing at the ceiling. “I'd say we're fine, but I guess none of us really is at the moment.” He glanced at her. “Right?”

“It's been...”

“A tough year, yeah, I know. You'd think we get used to this kind of crap, that it should get easier to come home and just switch back to normal. Life, Christmas, being jolly.”

She sniggered. “Being 'jolly' and you just doesn't match.”

“What? I can't be jolly?” Daniel gave her the pout of all pouts.

“Show me your jolly face,” she demanded, laughing.

He frowned, scowled, scrunched up his forehead, pretending to think hard, then sighed. “Okay. No jolliness, sorry.”

“See? I knew it.”

“I'm just a very serious composed and distinguished person,” he explained haughtily which made her laugh again, but she sobered quickly.

“It doesn't get old, Daniel. And it probably shouldn't because if it gets old, we'd be too jaded. Well, maybe it does get old and maybe we are jaded, in a way. But never around this time of year. Somehow Christmas is a bit like a nightmare after missions like this. Because everyone who isn't in the know expects you to be at peace with things and that the worst of your troubles is where to find the last minute presents.” She leaned against him and he gave a her an one arm hug. “I love Pete's family, but it'll be hard to fit in with all the holiday cheer this year.”

“Yeah.”

She changed the subject then. “You're worried about the general's dad?”

“I'm… yeah, I guess. I hope he'll be okay, yes.”

“You never met his parents?”

“No, never. They could have been dead for all I knew. He never talked about them. He mentioned his grandpa a couple of times though. He has an interesting family background. Finish, Irish, Native American… Crow, actually.”

Daniel let his eyes travel around the room. Lots of wood in warm browns, the light soothing honey color of maple; heavy log walls and simple but sturdy furniture. Sideboard, shelf, four chairs around a small dinner table, a coffee table; all handcrafted by Jack O'Neill senior. The shelf and the dinner table top displayed artfully carved-in patterns of Native American symbols like suns, arrows, butterflies, bears and camp fires. Jack's great grandmother – Hazel O'Neill's mom – had been of the Crow nation and apparently the O'Neills had been proud of the tribal heritage. Another sign of the Native American line in the O'Neill family were the colorful tribe blankets, handwoven by Hazel and her mother and still in use to this day.

Above the fireplace an old shotgun and a raccoon fur hat decorated the wall. Both items had probably belonged to Jack's grandpa. In a stark contrast to the traces of Absaroka – the original tribe name of the Crow nation - there was an incredibly ugly figurine of an Irish troll with a pot of gold. A number of small carved animals, a dog, a cat and a moose, kept the ugly troll company. Above the front door hung a tin plate advertising Dublin Guinness, a dark Irish beer Jack was very fond off, too.

It was a cozy place and still carried the personalities of Jack's grandparents who, to Daniel's knowledge, had lived here full time for over thirty years.

It bore evidence of Jack's own family, too. A faded growth chart at one of the bedroom doors, a pair of hockey sticks and skates – large and smaller ones - in one of the built in closets, a pile of board and card games on a shelf.

And other things. A high shelf filled with books the Daniels had brought out here and left to re-read at a later time, a rather large collection of Jack's fly fishing hooks in a glass case, piles of cross word books they had left on the coffee table last summer.

“Probably a difficult relationship there with his folks,” Sam assumed, pulling him out of his musings.

“Yep. I think that pretty much covers it though I don't know many details.”

She sighed. “I used to have a very difficult relationship with my dad so I can relate.” After a moment of pause she said, “You should be there with him. It's Christmas, you shouldn't be here while he's facing this alone.”

“I know.”

“And you shouldn't be without him either,” Sam said softly. “The three of you need to regroup and recharge together.”

“There'll be time for that when he's back.”

“And then your leave will most likely be over and we'll all be back at the mountain, facing the next crisis, the next mission.” She straightened and turned to look at him. “You're not supposed to spend the holidays apart. You're family.”

Daniel smiled. “We are family, too, Sam.”

“Yes, we are. But we're like siblings. You, the general and Daniel are a family nucleus.”

“We are a nuclear … what?” Daniel knew what she was talking about, but couldn't resist. Oh, yeah, Jack was really rubbing off on him.

She smirked, but sobered quickly. “Pete and I are working on becoming a family nucleus, too. Remember the plant that interacted with our brains? The one we had to take home to its planet? There was a fascinating family dynamic. Core families with extended relatives gathering around them until they linked with others and grew new offspring. Very similar to us, actually.”

Daniel knew there was something about what she was saying he should grasp, but he was too tired and not feeling up to analyzing her words.

“Besides,” Sam continued, “You and I spent a lot of time together while we were digging up the Ark of Truth, trying to make it work, taking it to Celestis where we got caught tortured and rescued… “ She nudged him. “Even siblings probably need a break from each other sometimes.”

“Are you saying you're tired of my dazzling and charming company?” He blinked and gave her his best hurt expression.

“What I'm saying is that you need to spend time with Jack and I need to spend time with Pete. I didn't… We're so used to spending the holidays together, it didn't even occur to me not to do it this year. But the truth is that...”

“We need a break from each other?” That seemed so wrong and yet...

She shook her head “I'd never need a break from being with you and Teal'c and the general. But did you notice how determined Teal'c was to go see his kid and Kar'yn this year instead of coming with us? We need to spend time with those we had to neglect due to duty lately. Pete and I badly need and want to be as close to each other as possible. And so do you and the general and LD. And before you say it – working together and being at the mountain together does not count as family time.”

“Wow.” Daniel didn't know what to say, except that she was dead on with this little speech.

“And I need to make some personal decisions after the holidays,” she added quietly. “Some… stuff Pete and I need to process together first.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “What? Are the two of you okay? What's going on?”

She gave him a strange little smile. “Oh, Pete and I are most definitely okay, but there'll be changes in a big way.”

He raised the cup to his lips and drank more of his hot chocolate while he waited for her to elaborate on that. At the same time his mind suddenly jumped back to what she'd said a few minutes earlier.

_Pete and I are working on becoming a family nucleus…_

Holy buckets.

“You are going to leave SG-1.”

“At least temporarily, yes.” She bit her lip, her eyes searching his.

He put his cup down. He waited for the impact of that reality to hit him. When it came, when he realized what that meant, the blow was much less harsh than he'd expected.

Because it was softened by something else, something good and pure.

“You're having a baby.” Daniel took her hands in his. “Sam, that's wonderful.”

“You really think that?” She let out a long breath.

“Yes!”

“It will break up the team.” She held onto his hands like to an anchor. “It will dismantle SG-1. At least for a while.”

“Sam, if there is a perfect time for having a family it is now.” It meant changes, but maybe change was what they needed. A change for the better, a break from constantly being out there shooting and running and saving, a break from coming home bruised and battered only to move out to start it all over again.

Because that's what SG-1 had done ever since the Ori war had started. And had done before when they had fought the Goa'uld.

Jack had been the first to take a step back and stopped going off world because of LD once the Goa'uld and the replicators had been defeated. Because he had realized back then that it had been the right time, that for the first time he'd been in a position to make his family his first priority.

Sam was in that same position now.

 _And maybe so am I,_ Daniel thought, a bit bewildered.

“It turns everything upside down and inside out,” she blurted out and squeezed his fingers.

“Does Pete know?”

“No, not yet.” She pulled her hands away and wiped at the corner of one eye. A wayward tear. “I've only known for a couple of days myself.”

“To the first SG-1 baby.” He raised his cup.

“I don't even…” She trailed off and shook her head. “You've seen what's out there, Daniel. Tell me, how do I ever guarantee that my child will be safe? How can I ever be sure this baby will grow up to be free and happy? The issues on this world are bad enough to wonder if having children is a good idea, but there is so much evil beyond that.”

“You can't guarantee anything for sure, but the one thing we have given your baby already… any child, all men and women... is a universe without enslavement by the Goa'uld or the Ori. That's not a bad start in life.”

“There will be others,” she said darkly, verbalizing his own thoughts from earlier. “There's always someone trying to take the crown and rule the whole damn galaxy.”

“Let them come. There'll always be someone to kick their collective asses. There'll always be an SG team to do the dirty work and take out the trash. And your baby will be the most cherished, loved and protected child ever. SG-1 is good at child rearing. Ask LD and Cassie.”

She snorted.

“Wait til Jack hears about this, he'll be the most devoted body guard, godfather and playmate your baby can have.”

Daniel wasn't sure whether it was hormonal or just a valve blowing from all the pressure the last months had put onto her, but the floodgate opened. At the same time she smiled and then hid her face behind her hands. “Oh my gosh, Daniel...”

“Sam.” He pulled her into his arms and held her.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his chest.

“For what? I don't even have Kleenex.”

That made her giggle. “For being you. For being here.”

“Hey, make up your mind, you just said I should get out of here.” He hugged her tight and then felt the insane urge to laugh because somehow part of a huge weight had just been lifted from his chest.

Then Pete was back all spooked and demanding to know what was going on and why Sam was crying. Daniel gently turned her to him and left to find his younger version.

LD was in bed, wrapped up in his sleeping bag, cuddling with the dog.

Daniel closed the door behind him, crossed the room and shook the boy's shoulder. “Are you still awake?”

“No, I'm fast asleep,” came the muttered answer from somewhere in the sleeping bag. A moment later he sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Whassup? If you're looking for light, you have to pull my charger out and plug in the bedside lamp.”

Daniel slumped down on his field bed. “Are you up to spending the holidays with Jack?”

LD started to dig himself out from under the dog and out of his sleeping bag. “You mean now? And what about Sam and Pete?”

“Well, I'd like to get a couple of hours sleep first, but we could be there around lunch time tomorrow. Sam and Pete are good with that, they're heading off to North Dakota in two days anyway.”

“Jack didn't want us to be there, remember?”

“Yeah and when has that ever stopped us?”

“You gonna call him?”

“I probably should...”

“Nah,” LD said and sniggered.

“I'll text him when we're on our way. And then turn off the phone,” Daniel decided after a moment of thought. “Gives him a fair warning.”

“But no chance to tell us off.”

“Yep.”

LD slid back into his fluffy sleeping bag with a content little chuckle. “He's only gonna tell you off. I'm just the kid, I have no choice but to do as I'm told… HEY!” He pulled the pillow Daniel had thrown at him off his face.

“No way. We are going into this together, we'll get chewed out together.”

“All for one, one for all?” LD pushed Flyboy away who was trying to bite the pillow because he wanted to play this funny game, too.

Daniel caught the pillow as it was tossed back to him and placed it on his bed. “Something like that, yep. Are you ready to meet your new grandparents?”

LD fell back onto his sleeping bag and groaned.


	5. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**V**

If Red Lake County was one thing, it was flat. Jack, who had lived surrounded by mountains in Colorado for so long now, had forgotten how far and wide one was able to see out here.

Last night when he'd escaped his mother's interrogation he'd only taken a short walk down the old landing strip to cool the heat of anger and shame she had so efficiently re-ignited in him. He had plowed through the snow until his hands had been numb and his hair seemed to start freezing on his head. Then he had returned to the house and gone to bed.

This morning he had bundled up properly and now he was hiking down the landing strip again into the rising sun sending her gorgeous light, a brilliant mix of red and purplish blue, all over the wide white fields and meadows surrounding him.

A small fir grove to his far left caught his eyes and he recalled strolling through there a lot with his dog. It had been bigger when he'd been small, or maybe that was only in his imagination. Everything seemed to be bigger when one was a kid. LD had told him that, too, and he had to know as he had first hand experience of both being big and small again – in that exact order.

Jack's first look this morning had been at his phone, but there still hadn't been a message from either Daniel or from Carter. He suspected there was no net coverage at the cabin. It happened around this time of year, so he wasn't really worried.

Yet, he hated not hearing from them. Being disconnected from his family, his team, created a deeply ingrained feel of unease. He was 99 % certain they were fine, but long term experience and his natural protective streak made his spidery sense tingle. Not enough to jump into the car and drive off, not enough to panic. It was an underlying buzz, easy to ignore at this point and easy to recognize as what it was – just an automatic response to not being in touch, no real alertness.

He had left a message on both their mailboxes to let them know things were under control and that he was staying for the time being. He'd considered letting them know there had been no heart attack, but changed his mind. The idea of leaving tomorrow and showing up at the cabin unexpectedly had a certain appeal. He wanted to see the delight in Daniel's eyes when he appeared there out of the blue; the perfect Christmas gift.

He passed the fir grove and paused as another memory hit him. They had lit their smoke bombs here and their dad had thought the grassland caught fire. Jack had been 15 and Angus 10. It had all started with Jack coming into the kitchen to check out where the weird smell had come from and found his little brother at the stove stirring something in mom's skillet. It had looked like peanut butter, but Angus told him it was sugar and fertilizer granulate.

Angus had always been the little geek of the family; he loved to learn and try out all kinds of crazy stuff he'd read somewhere. What Jack had been in the wild and reckless department, Angus had been in the brainy and exploration department. Angus, however, used to have the privilege of being the youngest and cute as a button with his wheat blond hair, his still chubby face and the wide innocent eyes.

He'd gotten away with far more stuff than Jack and Dean ever had.

“What the hell do you want with that? Poison someone?” Jack had wrinkled his nose at the acid sweet smell and quickly opened the kitchen window wide.

“Am gonna make a smoke bomb,” Angus had informed him. “For Independence day. This is a test run.”

“Dad's gonna fire a bomb on your ass.” Jack had pulled Angus away from the stove, but the kid had dug his heels in.

“I know how to do it, I do! Mr. Emmett told us in Science.”

“Yeah, but that's not the point.”

But curiosity had won over and Jack had interrogated his brother on how this would work. Then he had helped by pouring the hot acid 'peanutbutter' into an empty toilet paper roll which had been taped to a piece of cardboard. The little rugrat even had a fuse ready to stick into it – sugar and fertilizer wrapped in tissue paper. When they had been done they realized they had lots more paste left so Jack found an empty kitchen paper-towel roll and more cardboard and in the end they had created two bombs, a small and a large one.

“What now?” Jack had eyed them suspiciously.

“Now it has to cool off. Then we take it outside and light it.”

“We'll set the grass on fire,” Jack had warned.

“It rained last night, the grass is still wet. I checked. Nothing's gonna happen.”

“We'll take a bucket of water with us, just to be safe,” Jack had ordered.

They had watched some cartoons together, both a bit dazed by the lingering fumes of their little chemical cook-up.

Then they had taken their bombs and a bucket of water out here near the grove and put them on a short patch of grass. Jack had lit them, one by one, and they had retreated to the firs to watch.

Boy, it had been spectacular! The smoke had been dense like a wall.

Jack remembered how Angus had done a wild victory dance and yelled “YES YES YES!” at the top of his lungs and they had laughed so hard because it had just been the coolest smoke bombs they had ever seen go off.

Then their dad had come racing down the landing strip in his jeep. Like a cartoon character gone mad, he had stepped on the brakes, jumped off and handled the fire extinguisher like a P90 firing at their smoke bombs. They had only been able to see outlines of him through the smoke, but they had heard him curse a blue streak and the sight had been so hilarious that even though both boys had known they were in serious trouble, Angus collapsed on the ground, tears of hilarity running down his face as everything had been drenched in white foam.

Jack, who had been of a little more sense, grabbed his squirming giggling little brother and – still mostly disguised by the smoke - pulled him behind a fir tree. “Be quiet!”

Angus had stopped laughing abruptly and stared at him with wide fearful eyes as reality sunk in. “He's gonna whip us, Jack.”

Angus had never been a coward, but unlike Jack and Dean who had both learned to take their lickings more or less stoically, he had never gotten used to being disciplined physically. Nothing had scared the little guy like their dad's belt. Jack couldn't blame him and since he'd known he was going to get it anyway, he shushed his little brother. “Keep your head down.”

“But but...”

“I'll handle it. You better get back to the house and clean up the mess in the kitchen or we'll have mom on our backs, too.”

“Jack,” Angus had whimpered. “He's gonna see me.”

“Wait til he takes me down to the hangar.” Jack had given the blond mop of hair a tousle and stepped out to face his dad who had just started to examine the smoke bombs.

To this day Jack wasn't sure if Jon had known Angus had been involved. But he either hadn't wanted to deal with both of them or had thought that if Jack wanted to take his brother's licks, too, it was just as well. The lecture had been brief and harsh, about how they could have burned down everything and that Jon had just wasted a whole load of expensive fire extinguisher on damn smoke bombs.

Then Jack had been walked to the jeep and taken down to the house where he had been told to get the belt and come to the hanger. Discipline had usually been dished out in the kitchen, but Jon had to keep an eye on the snack shop that morning so the hangar it was. Jack had gotten more than the usual number, probably double, he couldn't remember, but he remembered that their mother had been searching for her missing skillet for days without success. When Angus had come to look after Jack that evening he had confessed that he hadn't been able to clean the encrusted skillet and – in panic – had buried it deep in the garden compost.

Jack wondered if anyone had ever found it in there. Not another word had been said about either the smoke bombs nor the skillet.

He left the landing strip and kept walking into the open range, snow and frozen grass crunching under his boots. He skirted around small bushes, some still green, some bare of leaves with their branches sticking out like awkward skeleton hands. But mostly it was just flat land, green and lush in the summer - covered in wild flowers and clover - and a white desert of cold in the winter.

Still beautiful though.

And then he found himself at the shore of the lake, which wasn't really a lake but a large piece of flooded land; a vast body of water, an extension of Clearwater River, with swampy ground, not deep enough to swim. When Jack had been a boy he could wade into it to his hips at the deeper parts. It was home to frogs, snails and tiny fish. When 'O'Neill Air and Transport' had still been in business, sea planes had taken off and landed from here and in the winter months it had been perfect for ice skating.

Jack stood there on the shore and gazed out on the smooth frozen surface reflecting the ghostly purple morning light where the snow had been blown away by the crisp wind last night. Groups of small crippled trees now trapped in the ice gathered like small islands here and there, catching the mist between their branches like filigree cobwebs.

Winter used to be Jack's favorite season. Sure, he loved a sunny beach with palm trees and fancy little cocktails and an ocean to swim in just like most people probably did. He bitched about bad weather and blizzards like anyone else. But this? The pureness of a sunrise on any Minnesotan winter day… the way every body of water froze, even the waterfalls. Up at the cabin there were waterfalls that looked like stalactites during the winter months. The frozen waterfall at the Cave of the Winds in Colorado was a joke compared to what ice did with water here. Jack embraced the cold as well, when it went down to -50 degrees but the sun was still shining brightly from a cloudless sky. All one needed to have fun in that weather was good solid winter clothing. He'd been one of those kids who spent more time outside than in the house. Being outside, here, in this wide open land with no boundaries had been little Jonny's understanding of freedom.

Out here he'd been able to run, skip, skate... He remembered always being on the go, on the move, always restless.

He'd loved the summers, but he'd embraced winter more.

And then Antarctica had happened.

Three times. They say three times is a charm. If Jack never saw any part of Antarctica again for the rest of his life he'd be a happy camper.

His first little jaunt there with Carter in tow had given him frost bite in places he hadn't believed you could get it. On his second trip he hadn't been in any danger of freezing to death, but the ancient plague they had unburied along with Ayianna had almost taken Little Daniel and the rest of his team from him. The third one had taken the crown, though; they'd been given the options to either freeze to death or be killed by super soldiers and Anbuis. And again he'd almost lost Daniel. Both of them that time.

Yep, Antarctica had put a bit of a damper on Jack's love for snow and ice for a while. Which only proved the point that there were two sides to every coin.

And yet… he still wasn't immune to the breathtaking view in front of him, he still loved the cold. He took a deep breath, welcoming the sharp stab of chill hitting his nostrils and reaching his lungs.

This land, this life he felt he didn't belong to anymore, had been his starting point. And while it hadn't always been hunky dory it had been okay for the most part. He'd made his own choices, some good some bad. He'd done the rebellious act and joined the military, had been at the helm of the most gorgeous fighter jets, doing all the stunts and all the daredevil maneuvers in that typical reckless way he'd been known for all through his youth.

But he hadn't started to grow up until he'd gotten his first command, killed his first enemy, got his first injuries. All that and becoming a husband, a father, had smoothed out the edges and given him maturity in a way his teachers, his parents, his coaches had never been able to drill into him. He'd known responsibility, yes. Duty, of course. He had worked hard to be accepted at the academy once he had made up his mind. But he'd always been a hot head and – not unlike Daniel – never opposed to bending the rules if it suited him.

Becoming a parent had slowed him down because he had realized that everything he did would directly or indirectly affect his family. Charlie's death had nearly broken him into pieces and he had almost taken his whole family with him.

Which was the one thing his dad had been right about.

Back then Jack had to remove himself from them in order to not pull them into the black hole of his self-loathing. But he hadn't been able to make that cut himself because his family, his brothers in particular, had also been the only small fragile thread binding him to sanity.

In a way his dad had done him – and them – a favor when he'd cut those ties after that fun – not - 'conversation' they'd had during and after the funeral. Sara had been the only one witnessing his going downhill after that.

But bottom line was Jack wouldn't be the man he was today if not for that crappy year at the bottom of his own personal little hell. He had created that hell for himself as punishment for the death of his son and going through all the gut wrenching pain resulting from that hell had been his choice.

As had going to Abydos which should have been the end to it all…. And turned out to be a new starting point instead.

Taking another deep intake of the fresh immaculate morning air he smartly turned and walked back with a new spring in his step.

The strange twilight started to dissolve, making space for a clear morning sky as he reached the backyard. The apple trees greeted him with their old gnarly branches and Jack had to smile when he spotted the old car tire swing still hanging from one of them.

He opened the squeaky wooden garden gate and walked down the shoveled path to the back deck. He assumed there were still vegetable beds somewhere under the snow and there was a small greenhouse now attached to the deck.

Jack smelled the smoke before he spotted his old man standing by the garden pump. Jon didn't even try to hide his cigarette, but the first words out of his mouth, when Jack reached him, were, “Don't tell your mother.”

“It's your life.” Jack shrugged. “But for some reason she seems to be fond of you. So... shouldn't you at least try to stick around for a while?”

Jon spat into the snow and took another pull of his cig. “You've always been such a smart mouth.”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best.”

“And you were never afraid of the consequences,” Jon muttered.

“Been raised to always tell the truth even when it hurt… me, sir,” Jack quipped.

His dad snorted and shook his head. He held up his cigarette, sighed and stumped it out at the iron handle of the pump. “Old habits are hard to shake. I'm down from one pack to three smokes a day, which isn't too bad.”

“The secret ingredient for your tea?”

“Not a daily habit.”

“Ah.”

“I am trying. Just takes a bit of adjusting.” Jon pulled a pack of Marlboro from the pocket of his thick parka and offered it to Jack.

“I quit.”

“Good for ya.” His dad raised an eyebrow at him. “You're looking good. I guess your military didn't take kindly to your developing drinking habit and made you quit that, too?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“You still with the Air Force?” Jon's eyes narrowed. Still the old grudge there.

“Yep.” Jack guessed this was a rift they'd probably never really close, but he hoped his dad would take an olive branch. “Look, I'm sorry I didn't take over the family business.”

Jon snorted again, a bitter jaded sound. “Nah, you're not.”

“Okay, no, I'm not sorry I didn't do it. But...” He chewed on the words for a moment as if they were stuck in his throat or his brain. “I'm sorry for the… pain… my choice caused you, I guess.” And while he was at it… “And all the bad… moves I made later, the stuff I said...” He couldn't believe how hard this was. How standing here, looking his father in the eye and going out on a limb like this, made him feel kind of small again. “I'm sorry.”

If Jon was surprised or moved in any way by Jack's feeble attempt at an apology he didn't let on. He turned the pack of Marlboro over in his calloused hands, then pushed it back into the pocket. “Well, renting the place out paid off. At least we have regular income to go with your mom's retirement pension.”

“You never went with the retirement plan Dean wanted you to set up for years?” Jack remembered the ongoing discussions between his brother and dad about insurances, saving plans and whatnot.

Jon waved it off. “Your brother meant well, but that's not for me.”

“Well, you could have done it for mom?”

Jon O'Neill straightened and presented Jack with the very same thunderous glare Jack himself had honed to perfection. “I can't remember having asked for your opinion. And if you think you can show up here after ten years to tell me you're 'sorry' to smooth things over, think again.”

This would be the point in the 'conversation' where one of them stomped off to leave the other one stew. It took Jack a lot more willpower than he thought it would to fight that strong urge to leave the old geezer here to choke on his long-nursed grudges.

“There's nothing to smooth over here. I'm not looking for absolution. You were right, you can't give it to me. No one can. Never asked for it either.”

Neither of them moved, they held each others gazes, a battle of wills.

“How can you even live with yourself?” Jon asked flatly. “Maybe being trained to kill on command made it easier for you in the long run?”

Jack's hands balled into fists, every muscle in his body tensed. He slowly stretched and relaxed his fingers, keeping his face bare of the rage surging through him. “My son killed himself with my own gun. I have to live with that every single day of my life. Nothing about this is or will ever be easy.”

Jon nodded. “Good.”

“If you hoped I'd put a gun into my mouth and end it when you told me I'm not your son anymore I'm sorry I disappointed you again, sir.” He'd been close, though. So close.

Jack saw Jon flinch and for a moment his father's eyes strayed away from his, but snapped back to continue their challenging glare.

“Things change. You don't think it'll ever happen, but sometimes people get second chances when they least expect it. I took that chance. That doesn't make what happened to Charlie any easier. But there's a way to learn how to live with it.”

“And you expect me to give you that second chance, too?” Jon kept eyeballing him.

Jack shook his head. “I'm not expecting anything from you. But I'm around for the holidays if you want to talk.”

“Talk,” Jon muttered.

“Yeah. You loved Charlie. So did I. That's something we have in common.”

“Talking won't bring my grandson back.” Jon turned away from Jack and stared out into the open space that was his property.

“Neither will lashing out.” Jack decided now was the time to end this conversation. He lingered for a moment, then made his way up the stairs to the deck.

“Your mom will have breakfast ready in a bit. I promised her we'd both be there,” Jon said when Jack already had a hand on the handle of the back door.

“Sure.”

  


* * *

  


“Jean-François Champollion, polyglot and linguist, was responsible for deciphering the Rosetta Stone. What language did he crack?”

“You serious? That's kindergarten…”

“I'm just reading the questions of this,” LD grinned, “'advanced archeology quiz'.”

“Fine. Ancient Egyptian.”

“YAY!” LD whooped as Daniel rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, next… Swedish archaeologist Einnar Gjerstad was known for his work on artifacts boasting the following characteristics: they were common, broke easily, are durable and changed form frequently. Which artifact was this?”

“Einnar Gjerstad… Oh! Cypriot Bichrome. It was pottery. Late Bronze Age and Iron Age.”

“You win, again.”

“Go me.”

“On many occasions amateurs can make significant contributions to important archaeological finds. One such person was Frank Calvert who spent decades carrying out field archeology in the Troad and Thracian Chersonesus in Turkey. Which major site was he largely responsible for discovering?”

“Wow. Calvert, been ages since I heard that name… he discovered Troy at the mound of Hissarlik.”

LD gave him the thumb's up.

Daniel took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. Sam had filled them a thermos to go, but it was instant and tasted awful. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

LD looked up from his phone where he had been reading the questions of the 'archeology quiz' from. “That depends. If it's a Tara question...”

“No Tara question, promise.”

“Okay.”

“Now that the Ori are gone… would it be okay if I take up the history class at the Center again?”

The kid's eyebrows wandered upwards over the rim of his glasses. “Are you asking for my approval?”

“Well, no… yes… I don't know. I've been wondering how you'd feel about that.”

“About you doing classes at the Center again?” LD sounded confused.

“Yeah. Maybe you feel awkward about it.”

“Okay… why?”

“Be-cau-se the Center seems to be your thing. You hang out there, do stuff on your own… maybe it'd be weird if I show up there, interact with your friends.” He couldn't hide the smile when he continued, “See you hanging out with Tara...”

LD gave him a frown. “Oh. I never thought about it that way.”

“You didn't?”

“No. You've done those classes before, it was okay.”

“Ahh, but when I did those classes you had just started going to the Center more regularly. But now…” Daniel shrugged.

LD picked up the thermos, opened the lid and sniffed at it with disdain. “This is such a crappy excuse for coffee.” He closed it and put it away. “The kids there like you.” He rolled his eyes and grinned. “Tara _adores_ you.”

“She said that?” Daniel frowned.

“No, she said you're hot as fuck,” LD said. “I just thought 'adores' sounds better.”

Daniel coughed and opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, deciding not to answer to that.

Finally LD sniggered, “Don't worry, she won't try to seduce you. She's...”

“...into girls right now, yeah, I got that, thank you,” Daniel grumbled. The last thing he needed was a hormone driven teenage girl having a crush on him.

LD sighed. “Seriously, don't worry. Just keep doing your classes. They really love you there. But… thanks for, you know, asking.”

“No problem,” Daniel said. “I like working there. It's like a hobby.”

LD eyed him strangely. “You need a hobby? Members of SG-1 don't need hobbies, they just need recharging time between putting out fires.”

“Mmmh. Maybe I won't be putting out anymore fires for a while,” Daniel murmured, the words slipping before he could bite his tongue.

“What? Are you thinking of leaving the team?”

“No. Well, I'm thinking of cutting down my off world time, maybe.” Daniel wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He hadn't even had a chance to talk about this with Jack.

“That's just an over reaction to the whole Ori showdown,” LD decided. “It'll pass.”

Daniel gave him a sideways glance. “Thanks for the pep talk, buddy.”

“Anytime.”

“Do you still miss going off world? I mean on real missions, not the training missions at the alpha site you and Teal'c organize.” Jack had put LD on the training mission development team this fall because he felt the kid needed a bit of diversity in his working routine. And he had been spot on with that assignment, LD loved it.

LD blew out his cheeks and slowly released the breath. “Uhhh… I dunno. Sometimes.” He fiddled with the cord of his iPod. “I miss being an archeologist, you know? Digging, excavating, reading text from real temple walls instead off video footage and pottery others brought through. I miss being in the field, yes. I don't miss being shot at or having to run for my life.” He paused, thinking for a moment, then said, “But it's fun going to the alpha site and hide or bury artifacts or alien devices for the training teams to find. And I love to booby trap them.” He grinned.

“Oh, I hear you about wanting to be an archeologist. I'd like to juuust...” Daniel made an all-encompassing move with his right hand, “take my time excavating artifacts or solving the riddles of ancient languages without always being on the lookout for bad guys or being on the clock or whatever. Working under pressure can be refreshing and challenging, but too much pressure all the time can get a little exhausting.”

“Remember when we… I… you...” LD frowned, then grinned and shrugged it off. “When I stood in that gate room for the very first time, ready to go to Abydos. Remember what a head rush that was? What a HUGE big deal? How it was the ultimate thing?”

Daniel smiled and nodded. “Oh, yeah. Mind boggling didn't even begin to describe it.”

“I miss that feeling, too,” LD said softly “I remember how jaded we all became, even me, up to a point.”

“We should visit the Salish. Take a real vacation. Tonane might even let us set up a dig site,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “Jack could go hunting or canoeing.”

LD's face lit up with delight, causing Daniel's smile to broaden too. The kid gave him a thumb's up. “That's one of the greatest ideas I've heard in a while.” And then, just as quickly, his face fell and he sighed. “You and Jack should take that vacation alone. And soon.”

“Uh, why?”

LD bit his bottom lip. “Because you need it.”

Daniel was torn between wanting to know and not wanting to push it. He had a sudden suspicion and felt the blood rise in his cheeks. _Oh, god, please don't let him have heard us down there in the basement._

Jack's cellar had a pretty good isolation and the previous owner of Jack's house had put additional padding on the walls which made the basement sound proof. Which was why they kept sneaking down there in the middle of the night to get their rocks off when they needed to be rough and harsh and loud. Because it was sound proof.

But still…

“Daniel?”

“Alone time,” LD said finally. “I think you need that. I can ask Teal'c to move in with me while you're gone. Just for the record, not for real babysitting.”

“I'm sure Jack and I can find alone time even if we all go.”

“I remember how I used to get when one clusterfuck happened after another,” LD murmured.

“Yeah. Can we please not talk about that?” Daniel blurted out.

“Okay.”

Daniel stared at the road. Nothing much to see there.

“I'm good,” he said finally, thinking at the same time that he should just shut up. “Really, I'm… fine.”

LD slowly turned his head, giving him a long suffering look. _Whom are you trying to fool here_ _?_

This was one of those awkward situations Jack called the 'Twilglight Zone Moments'. They had been through many of those, but it hadn't happened in quite a while and Daniel was totally blindsided by this now.

 _Why me? Why now? Oh, god, he's still looking at me._ “Okay. Okay, but I'm better. We're taking care of it and you know it'll go away after a while.”

Had they left any evidence on one of their trips down to LD's gym? Couldn't be. They'd always made sure to bring enough towels and they always tidied up afterward. Jack in particular was very obsessive about not leaving even the Kleenex box down there.

The kid squinted over at him. “Are you sure? It's been a while since I spent the night elsewhere and I know both of you get up in the middle of the nights because of nightmares or whatever. The dog always gets twitchy then. When was the last time you slept through the night anyway?”

“I do sleep,” he muttered. Not very well, but he did.

“You have eye bags.”

“I don't have eye bags.”

“Yeah, you do. So does Jack.”

“Great. I'm being mother-henned by mini me,” Daniel groaned. But he was relieved, too.

 _He's just worried, nothing more. Just worried._ “We're taking care of it,” he said again. “And by the time we can schedule a vacation again for the three of us, the post Ori stress will be a thing of the past.”

At least that's what he hoped.

He felt those blue eyes linger on him for another long moment, then he heard the boy exhaling deeply. “Oh good. I just had to be sure. Not being part of a front-line team anymore might have removed me from the action, but I still know what it's like.” After a beat he added. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just had to at least let you know I'd be willing to give you more space if you need it.”

Daniel nodded, suddenly grateful. “Thanks for asking. But remember that rule we established? If we need more space, we'll let you know.”

LD moved on smoothly and Daniel was even more grateful for that. “So, vacation... ya think the general will grant it?”

“Oh, leave that to me. The general and I go waaaay back.”

“Funny, because the general and I go waaaay back, too.”

“We'll talk to him together. He can't withstand the force of both of us,” Daniel agreed. “He'll grant it. Especially if he can come along. And the best thing is we won't have to wait for summer because it's summer there.”

“And we all got so much leave stored up, we could probably go away for a year. In theory. Oh, speaking of the general… we have to text him. Jack needs some time to tell his folks about me. I'd rather not show up there while they're still completely clueless.”

“Uh-huh, you're right,” Daniel agreed. “Hey, are you really okay with going there and meeting Jack's parents?”

“You asked me twice already, the answer is still the same. Yes, I'm okay with going there. It's a bit awkward because… you know...”

“Because they are technically your grandparents?”

“Yeees. And that's weird. But we can spend Christmas together and I think you're right, he needs us there.” LD quickly typed a message. “Done.”

* * *

Breakfast had been surprisingly calm and Jack could actually enjoy his mom's homemade bread and the sizzling bacon she served with scrambled eggs. They had made careful small talk, but it hadn't felt quite as forced and awkward as he'd expected it to.

“Wanna take a look in the hangar?” Jon asked gruffly when Jack was nursing his second cup of coffee, pitying his father a bit for his herbal tea – sans the secret ingredient.

“Sure.”

“We have three Cessna at the moment and one floatplane. We get a couple more crafts during the summer when people come out here for vacation.”

The conversation moved to aviation things which lifted the overall mood. If Jack and his father had ever been in agreement about anything then it was aircraft, flying, and anything connected to it.

Jack recognized Jon's willingness to find common ground as what it was; the attempt at - if not a peace offering – a cease fire arrangement.

He took it, feeling a small pang of triumph; like he'd scored a partial victory here.

Like most men in this family – Jack was well aware he was an O'Neill through and through in that department - his dad had always been a 'show-don't-tell' kinda guy. He had been great with rough housing, building tree houses and taking them on outdoor adventures like hunting, fishing, hiking. He'd fixed their bikes and skates. Anything that had been broken actually – his dad could fix it. All the O'Neill guys were good with their hands and tools.

And planes. Grandpa Jack had been a pilot and his son had become a pilot, too, albeit not for the military. Jon had built his own small company and worked hard to make it one of the best known and highly recommended aerocab companies in the county.

His dad had taught him how to fly. First he had taught him how a plane worked, how you had to treat it (“Treat her like a lady and she'll always take you home, Jonny.”). Jack had spent hours at the hangar 'helping' to fix the old Cessna or the helicopter – mainly delivering the right tool to his old man or the hired mechanics until he had learned to do small repairs on his own. Like working with wood, working with the planes had given Jack something to do, to hold onto and to focus on.

Jon had taken Jack on flights into the Big Bog territory where he delivered cargo and mail or picked up and dropped off passengers. Funnily enough they had never argued when flying together. Not that there ever had been a lot of real 'arguing' between them, not in the same way Jack and Little D often argued and bickered, mostly on eye-level up to a point. Even Charlie's upbringing had been much less strict than Jack's. When things had gone smoothly his fatherused to be a lot of fun. If there had been trouble, backtalk or disrespect, either his mom had dealt with it or his dadsorted things out with swats to the back of their heads or – if things got really bad - his belt.

Both Dean and Angus had mostly known when shutting up and doing as they'd been told had been the better option. Jack, not so much. He'd been the kind of boy other kids tagged as their leader and role model, while most parents had breathed a sigh of relief whenever their kids weren't involved in any kind of trouble 'the O'Neill kid' had caused. He'd been the Bart Simpson of Red Lake Falls, Jack mused.

And he'd often paid the price, but never seemed to really learn the lesson, whatever that lesson had been beyond 'respect your elders even when you don't see the point'. His mom was probably right. He and Jon were too much alike and butted heads over anything they disagreed on.

As they entered the hangar, Jack deeply breathed in the unique and yet so familiar scent of kerosene and fuel. He swore he could smell sweat and leather as well as rubber and a hint of gylcol and hydraulic leaks. The concrete ground showed dark spots of spilled oil and paint.

The hanger was divided into two sections. One was for aircraft parking and fueling, one was for repairs and maintenance. Parking and fueling was where the double doors opened onto the landing and take-off strip, repair and maintenance was where Jack and Jon entered through a smaller door. Tools hung on the walls and toolboxes were stored on shelves.

Everything was in neat order, just as Jack remembered it. The aviation office was still to the left and so was the refreshment shop. There had been a counter over which drinks and snacks had been sold. That was gone now and the shop had been turned into an open room with tables and chairs. Jack spotted the old work counter in the back though. On it was a coffee machine and a hodgepodge of mugs, glasses, bowls and a camp stove. There was an old fridge in one corner and on top of it an equally old radio. A row of lockers were on the other wall with name tags on the doors. Apparently everyone brought their own stuff these days.

The distant ringing of a phone coming from the aviation office interrupted the silence. Jon mumbled an excuse and went to take the call.

As if on cue inside the front pocket of his jeans Jack's phone started vibrating.

“Finally,” he muttered, pulling it out. It was a text from LD.

_'Jack, we're on our way to RLF, probably there in two hours. Usual cover story? BTW, this was entirely BD's idea, he sends his xoxo'_

_What the…_ “xoxo my ass,” Jack growled as he speed-dialed Big Daniel.

And got the mailbox.

He dialed LD and got the mailbox, too. “Oh, for cryin' out...” He typed a quick text to BD to let them know what exactly he thought about their little change of plans, then added; ' _cover story is a go'_

The usual cover story of LD's existence and the reason he lived with Jack, for those not in the know at the SGC and in general, was simple. LD was BD's nephew. When his parents had died BD had been AWOL so Jack – who was BD's next of kin, too – had taken the orphaned boy in and when BD had returned mysteriously from being AWOL Jack had already adopted the kid and things stayed as they were.

Jack wondered how his parents were going to take to the fact they had another grandkid. And then he wondered if his little Daniel had thought this through properly. Maybe if he played this right, the two of them would reconsider coming out here.

He typed another text to the kid.

_'You sure you're ready to meet the grandparents and get lots of loving attention?'_

The reply came on the spot.

_'Elaborate on 'lots of loving attention'?'_

Gotcha. Jack smirked and replied, _'Call me. Now.'_

When his phone began playing the Simpson's Theme, Jack quickly made sure his dad was still in the other room before he took the call. “Where are you?” he snapped.

“Too far along to turn back. Daniel says you shouldn't even start arguing,” was the quick reply. Then, after a moment of pause, “Define lots of loving attention?”

“Well, you're officially part of this family, too. You're legally an O'Neill after all.”

“Jackson O'Neill.”

“Details. Question is, are you really up for that? My mom might want to hug you and feed you cookies. She's very tactile, yanno, she'll fuss over you… It's not too late to find a motel and avoid all this family-gathering...”

There was another pause. Jack could hear the truck's engine on the other end and the radio playing some country song.

“Here's the thing,” LD said finally. “Tell them I'm Daniel's nephew and leave out all the rest. They don't need to know all the background stuff, right? Tell them I'm shy and… uh… weird around strangers?”

“Why? You afraid of a bit of cuddling?”

“Ja-ack, I'm a teenager, I don't cuddle.”

“Not quite a teenager yet.”

“I. Don't. Cuddle. I won't call them gramps and granny. I'm okay with meeting them, but I'm not a substitute for Charlie.”

That sobered Jack pretty quickly. “No one is going to expect you to be. But you're my kid and I think they should know. And once they know it'll be hard to keep them from wanting to love and spoil you. Especially my mom.”

LD sighed. “Okay. I guess I can live with being spoiled a little.”

 _Crap_. “Are you sure?”

And then the kid said thoughtfully, “Maybe… maybe it'll make them happy.”

Jack closed his eyes briefly. He was not getting out of this now. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “It might.”

“Uh, Jack? Are you going to tell them about you and Daniel, too?”

“I think dropping one bomb on them at a time is the wiser course of action.”

Oh, but hadn't he told Daniel he wasn't gonna play DADT with his parents? That he'd come out to them if there wasn't a health crisis? _Well, here you go, Jack, the health crisis turned out to be a hoax._

Right.

_Mom, dad, my very male partner is going to arrive soon and, oh, by the way,_ _he's bringing_ _a twelve year old boy with him, our kid._

Yeah, that would go over swell.

“'kay, See you soon.”

“Ye-ah. Oh, and Daniel? The two of you are on my naughty list,” Jack grumbled which made LD snigger.

Just when he'd pocketed away his phone, his dad returned. “People know we have open hours, but they still call whenever it pleases them.” He motioned at Jack to follow him. “Place isn't in as great shape as it used to be, but it's still good enough,” Jon muttered as they walked over to the Cessna and the floatplane.

“There's nothing wrong with the place.” Jack stood at the hangar gate leading into the parking and fueling area and had another time-warp moment.

God, he'd loved this place.

His eyes settled on a Cessna 350, a Corvalis, single-engine, normally aspirated, fixed-gear, low-wing general aviation aircraft. Pretty ordinary, but sturdy and reliable. Just what people needed out here.

“I always wondered,” Jon said suddenly, voice gruff, “what it's like to fly one of those fighter jets. Your grandpa never really talked about it. Just said it was lonely up there 'cause there was no co pilot.”

In all those years Jack had worked for the military prior to the Stargate Program his dad had never asked or engaged in any kind of conversation about the USAF and what exactly Jack was doing there and Jack hadn't spilled.

This was a first.

“Some of them are two seaters, but the F16A, for example, isn't.” Jack walked along the side of the Corvalis, admiring the sleek and easy airframe. “It's just you and her. You get to make all the decisions and if you die up there, you die alone.”

Jon cleared his throat. “I never wanted you to put a bullet into your mouth, Jack. I was mad at you. I guess I still am. But never like that. I just… need you to know that.”

“I know.”

They didn't look at each other, but after a moment, Jon released his breath. “Good.”

Jack squinted up at the Cessna's cockpit. “Flying jets is cool. It kicks ass. There's nothing quite like it.” Except flying the F-302, but he wasn't going to talk about a fighter jet capable of going into space and jumping into hyper drive to his father.

“Heard it's like a roller coaster ride,” Jon said.

“Oh, yeah. Best you'd ever had.”

“That's what you've always been looking for, eh? The ultimate kick. The faster, the more reckless the better.” But the usual sting of resentment was missing. It seemed to be just a statement now.

“Used to. Things change.” Jack shrugged. He'd gotten more of the ultimate kick than he'd ever asked for. His need for excitement had been satisfied beyond the max years ago.

After examining the helicopters they left through a side door and walked away from the hangar, in the general direction of the house, until Jon stopped to light a cigarette.

Jack arched an eyebrow. “She might see ya from the house.”

“Nah, she's in the kitchen.” The kitchen window was at the front side of the house.

Jack stared into the distance. It was very still, so still that he could hear the cars passing through on the main street or the Interstate.

He had to do something. Sit them down together, talk to them about LD and while he was at it he should just go ahead and let them know that…

_Mom, dad, I forgot to tell ya I have a twelve year old son now and he'll_ _be_ _here soon, along with my boyfriend and our dog._

Whoa.

God, he was so screwed.

And Daniel was so gonna pay for this.

Jack cleared his throat. “Dad...” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I, uh… I have a dog now.”

_Yeah, that's good, start with the simplest thing and go from there. Great strategy._

Jon nodded. “Nice.”

“Ye-ah. It's a great dog. Big. And very… black. He's with my...”

A truck rolled slowly down the driveway, turned right and disappeared around the corner of the house. For a split second Jack thought they were already here. His heart skipped a beat and then fell back into normal pace when he realized it wasn't his Ford but a gray Dodge RAM.

“That's your brother.” Jon took one last hasty pull and let the cig trundle to the ground where it sank into the snow.

 _Great timing_ , Jack thought with a suppressed sigh, but followed his father across the wide parking lot and around the backyard.

Dean O'Neill was a big guy. Tall like Jack but more on the heavy side like their dad. He had Dot's hazel eyes and the softer facial features of her side of the family. As soon as Dean had left home for Culinary Arts College in Chicago he had started to grow his hair and wore it tied at the back of his head ever since. Apparently he had also taken to bottle-blond. The color was similar to Carter's as far as Jack could tell from the flood of hair falling down his back. The rest of his hair was hidden under a beanie hat.

Dean, wearing a black woolen coat, gray chinos and sturdy winter boots, was unloading bags and boxes from the bed of his Dodge when Jack and Jon caught up to him.

“Dad! I brought all the stuff mom asked me to get from Minneapolis. Why she needs four bottles of rose petal soap is beyond me, but I got 'em all.”

“You know your mom, she's like a hamster when it comes to hoarding provisions.” Jon pointed at Jack with a thumb over his shoulder. “Remember Jack? He'll help you carry everything in.”

Dean blinked, opened his mouth, closed it and dropped the two bags he had just taken off the truck. Jack tried not to wince when he was grabbed and pulled into a bear hug. “Holy buckets, Jack! Mom said you'd be here, I didn't believe her!”

“Dean the wise-man-bomber,” Jack snorted and clapped one broad shoulder as soon as he got air back into his lungs.

Dean stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. “Wise-man-bomber! I haven't heard that in decades!” His brother boxed Jack's arm. “You pushed me, moron.”

“Nah, you were just clumsy as usual.” Jack pushed his younger brother against the truck, easily avoiding the friendly dig to his ribs.

“You boys done yet? Your mother is waiting for her squirrel stuff,” Jon grumbled and climbed the stairs to the deck.

Jack loaded himself with bags. “What IS all that stuff?”

“Stuff she could easily order on the internet to get it delivered when she needs it. But she loves to send me lists for delivery whenever I come over to visit,” Dean said, tongue in cheek.

“Mom and dad have internet? No, strike that… they have a computer?”

“Sure. I set one up for them. Mom loves to play Solitaire and dad …” Dean lowered his voice as they stopped by the front door, “Dad has a flight simulator on there. Mom says he plays a lot with that.”

“He doesn't fly himself anymore at all,” Jack concluded, surprised how much this realization stung. _They're getting old._

“He stopped when he had to give up 'O'Neill Air and Cargo' and rented out the hangar. That was six years or so ago,” Dean said quietly as they got rid of their boots and jackets before picking up their bags again. “Said he was getting too old. Didn't renew his medical certificate for his license and that was that.”

 _And probably blamed me for all of it._ Jack refused to feel guilty, but found it hard to not feel a bit more sorry for his dad. Three kids and none of them had been interested in taking over the family business. It had to be hard.

Their mother who was in the kitchen, greeted Dean and told them where to take the bags. Jack watched them hug and exchange the easy chatter of people who were close and saw each other often. Family.

“Oh, by the way, I talked to my buddy Ray… you know, the roofer I told you about, this week and he said if the weather holds he can slot you in on the 28th,” Dean said in a rather hushed voice.

“Thank you, hon.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Your dad said he'll do it, but I'll let him climb that roof when hell freezes over.”

“What's up with the roof?” Jack asked.

“Just a couple of loose shingles by the chimney. But it has to be done before it gets worse,” Dean said. “I would've done it myself, but the isolation there needs to be replaced, too.” Turning back to Dot he asked, “How will you keep him from going up there with Ray to make sure he” does things 'right?”

“I won't have to. Jon will take me out for lunch and shopping. He just doesn't know about it, yet. He's gonna love that because he can go to Sheldon's Used Aircraft Parts and spend hours looking around and buying stuff we don't need.”

“Sneaky mom,” Dean deadpanned and she chuckled as they shared a conspiratorial look.

Jack had a sudden unsettling suspicion the Daniels would revert to sneakiness just like that once Jack got old… older… and stubborn… more stubborn.

They were already sneaky enough as it was.

He cleared his throat “Mom, I need to talk to you about something...”

“Ahh, I'm afraid it has to wait. Put those groceries away, Jonny. I need to send out my Christmas cards. I've already sent some this morning, but I still have twelve people to write to,” his mom twittered and hurried out of the kitchen.

Jack stared after her. “Isn't it a bit late for cards?”

Dean chuckled. “She discovered the joy of internet greeting cards. So now she's sending everyone e-cards instead of real cards. At least to those who have computers and internet.”

“Ah. Smart woman.”

A moment later Jack juggled his load of bags and trudged after his brother to the laundry room which was also a larger storage room. The washing machine was still there, but a dryer had been added so there was no need for long laundry lines anymore. Instead there were Ikea shelves and a couple of old lockers.

“Enough space to hoard away,” Jack mused.

“She doesn't hoard everything,” Dean said in defense of their mother. “Only stuff they really use up. Soap, washing powder, toilet paper… canned food, the kind of things you need all the time but don't want to go out and buy every month. She's a bit anal about it, especially in winter months in case they get snowed in.”

They unpacked jars of pickled gherkin, beetroot, peppers and sweet pickle relish.

“She used to do all the pickling and canning herself,” Jack noted. “Remember how we were recruited to help pick cucumbers, peppers, onions...”

Dean nodded. “I was the only one who actually liked working in the vegetable garden,” he recalled. “And I kept doing it with her most years until she finally gave in to cutting down on the vegetable patches. She has a greenhouse now, for fruit trees. Oranges and cumquats.”

The last boxes they unpacked contained the rose petal soap, several boxes of Tide Downy and Cascade dishwasher tabs.

“Why are you doing these hauls for them? They are both still driving, right?”

Dean shrugged. “Sure. And she can get all of that here in Red Lake Falls, but it's much cheaper at the superstores in Duluth. Plus, I get major discounts at the food wholesales there.”

“Is money an issue?”

“Dunno. They don't really talk about it. I think they get by okay though. I come out here once a month if I can to help with stuff.” He gave Jack a lopsided grin, “And to get a free dinner out of mom. No one makes a meatloaf like her.”

Coming from a guy who had been Chef of several highly recommended restaurants in Chicago and Minneapolis before he'd ventured into opening his own delicatessen store it had to be true. Then again, they probably didn't serve ordinary meat loaf in those gourmet temples.

“Hey.” Jack pushed a box of Tide Downy into one of the shelves. “I know I've been outta the loop for a while, but how is your wife… April?”

“June. Oh, hopefully okay. I haven't seen her in a while.”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

“It's okay. We were already going downhill when Charlie...” Dean winced and took a step back as if he was afraid Jack would punch him.

Maybe ten years ago he might have. God, had he really been so out of it that people around him didn't dare even mention his son's name?

“That was a crappy year,” Jack said quietly.

Dean eyed him warily for a moment. “Yeah.”

The kitchen was deserted when they returned. Sun flooded in through the large window. From just looking out into the bright morning one could be fooled into believing it was warm outside.

“Coffee?” Without waiting for an answer Jack's younger brother got mugs and filled them from the large can on the stove. “Black?”

Jack checked his watch. LD had estimated their arrival in two hours… which would now be 90 minutes to Zero Hour.

He had to do some damage control.

Damn those Daniels for never sticking to the plan.

“Black coffee's good,” he said flatly and took the offered mug, his mind still on overdrive to figure out a way to talk to his parents without risking strokes and meltdowns. Apparently coming out to your parents was harder than facing a gaggle of Goa'uld or bad tempered Jaffa.

Who would have thought…

God, he was acting like a chicken. He was a grown man and a badass known to intimidate subordinates with one look and a twitch of his jaw.

But this?

_Fuck._

“Jack? You okay?” Dean gave him a worried look.

“Yeah, peachy.”

Suddenly a bright grin appeared on Dean's face. “Remember the attic?”

Jack's mind only needed a second to make the connection. “Oh, yeah.”

His brother was already moving. “C'mon!”

Jack opened his mouth to tell Dean that he had to find his parents. They needed to have that talk now… but… oh, what the heck, there was still time.

 _Chicken_ , his sardonic inner voice snorted.

He followed suit, careful not to spill the coffee as they walked up the two flights of stairs to the attic.

  



	6. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**VI**

  


The attic of Casa O'Neill had the advantage of a real door instead of just a hatch with a pull-down ladder. The stairs were narrow and creaky and the white painted wooden door high and small, but it was still an upside.

“You sure it's not locked?” Jack wondered if his parents ever went up here except to haul down Christmas decorations or store away stuff they never needed again. Attics were like black holes, they swallowed anything you threw in there and once it was out of sight, it was out of mind. Dusty 'gems'.

Instead of an answer Dean stopped by the entrance, handed Jack his coffee mug and raised one hand to grope around in a crack of the wood above the door. He came up with a clunky iron key. “I still come up here from time to time.”

“To do what?”

“Wait 'n see.”

Jack was hit by another time warp flash as soon as the attic door closed behind them and the stale dusty air hit his nostrils. Two circular windows, one on each side of the roof, let in the sun. One of the windows was clean, one grimy. The chimney served as a natural room partition. The larger part of the attic was plunked in twilight and housed all those dusty gems neatly put away in boxes and crates. The other side of the room however...

Jack and Dean were barely two years apart while Angus was five years younger than Jack. Even though all three brothers had been pretty close as kids the older two had often tried to find ways to get rid of their 'baby brother' once they had reached a certain age. The attic had been the perfect hideaway because it had a door with a key and Angus hadn't been particularly fond of the place until he'd reached his own teen years and learned to appreciate the advantages.

With the blessing of their mom Jack and Dean had dragged old wooden pallets up here to use as a table and throw pillows to sit on. Dean had brought his record player and all his James Brown and The Who records up and the constant parental complaining about the loud and wild music had stopped. They had smoked up here, listened to music, smuggled their first alcohol into the house and drunk it up here. Jack had hung a poster of the USAF fighter jets on the wall and it had been here where he'd sat and read his book about the USAF **F-4 Phantom II MiG Killers, one of his favorite fighters at the time. He'd had wet dreams about flying that baby.**

 **Those wood pallets had been replaced by an old battered coffee table and the throw pillows by two shabby leather love seats. Angus had acquired those when their parents had gotten new furniture for the living room. The USAF poster was still there, the colors bleached out and the edges torn and crinkled. So was Dean's old poster of the Minneapolis Bruins, everyone's favorite hockey team of 1965. Angus had left his traces in** **the** **form of other hockey team pics, books of faraway countries, mostly Mexico, South Africa, India.**

The coffee table by the clean window was scattered with scraps of wood, toothpicks, a small hand drill and sand paper. Jack also spotted small paint and glue bottles, tweezers and cork. A half finished two-master sat on two wooden blocks, waiting to be painted. A large bottle sat on the side.

“Bottle ships?” Jack stepped closer and admired the filigree handiwork. “Nice.” He brushed a finger over the boat's hull.

“It's a hobby, it's relaxing. The boat is a kit, though, I didn't make that from scratch. Takes too much time. There are great kits.”

“Charlie and I used to build fighter models. I still have some of them in my living room,” Jack said, absently picking up the tiny wooden tweezers.

“It's good to hear you can talk about Charlie like this now,” Dean said quietly.

Jack put the tweezers down. “Like what?”

“Like… you know… at all.” His brother winced and awkwardly reached back to tighten the leatherband holding his hair together. “Look, this is something I wanted to tell you a long time ago… but you weren't ready to hear it then. Charlie was a great kid. He deserves to be remembered. To be talked about.”

“He was. And he does.” An unexpected splash of warmth rushed through Jack, not just at the words, but at the sudden realization that he'd gotten his brother back. He made a vow to get in touch with Angus as soon as possible, too.

Dean nodded. “I'm glad you feel that way now. Dad told mom to take down all his pictures, but it's wrong. It's like erasing him, like ignoring he ever existed. We all loved him, we all miss him. You and dad… there was so much anger and that anger festered in him like cancer.”

“She set up all his pictures in my… his old room,” Jack said quietly. “Kinda like Sara who kept Charlie's room as it was for years at our old house. Said it was like a connection to him.”

“What about you?” Dean asked softly.

The only other person he had ever talked to about Charlie was Daniel. Okay, both of them at different times. It felt weird and unfamiliar to have this kind of conversation with anyone but Daniel.

At the same time Jack knew if he really wanted to mend fences with his folks he had to cross at least some of his usual boundaries, open up a fraction.

“Kept a couple of his things but not much.” His eyes zeroed in on that USAF poster he'd been so fond of as a teen. “I once told a friend I'll never be able to forgive myself for what happened to my kid, but at least sometimes I can forget. Today, I can face it and deal with it.”

“Because enough time has gone by to soften the edges?”

“Time helped.” Jack picked up the bottle, turned it over in his hands, put it down again. He could almost see Daniel's annoyed glare whenever Jack was in his office fiddling with artifacts, paperweights, pens, rubber bands. Jack liked to fiddle with stuff, keep his hands occupied whenever he had to tackle serious conversations.

Daniel who'd be here in…

Jack checked his watch.

… 60 minutes to Zero Hour.

 _There's this guy. Used to be a total geek. Broke down all my walls. Got me, hook, line and sinker. Made me face a couple things._ There, that sounded good. Could work as an entry to… “I have a partner. That helped a lot.”

_Or just blurt it out, that works too._

Dean arched one eyebrow and smiled. “Sweet. Why didn't you bring her?”

Jack cleared his throat. “ _He..._ went up to the cabin. Took our kid and the dog.”

His brother's hazel eyes widened. “Wait… hold it, right there... He, as in, a guy? And… kid? There's some story behind door number six, eh?” He bent down and grabbed something from underneath the table which turned out to be a bottle of the worst stuff Jack ever had the doubtful pleasure to drink.

“Fireball?” He shook his head. “No way.”

Dean gave him a crooked grin. “I kinda like it.”

“You're supposed to be a Chef, a gourmet of fine cuisine. How can you like _that_?”

“It's on the top list of Minnesota's favorite drinks.” Dean went to a small cabinet and retrieved two glasses.

“And that's an excuse… how?” Jack glared at the red sticky liquid coming out of that bottle. “C'mon, Dean, it's cinnamon whiskey. It tastes like red chewing gum soaked in piss.”

Dean chuckled and handed Jack a glass. “You nailed it!” Then he sobered abruptly. “So this partner… guy...” He blinked again. “Really? A guy?”

“Yeah. All the guy parts, all the testosterone.”

“Does he make you happy?”

This was something he could answer without a doubt. “Yeah.”

Dean raised his Fireball. “To the guy...”

“Daniel. His name is Daniel.”

“To Daniel.”

They clinked glasses and Jack watched as Dean knocked his drink down, shuddered, smacked his lips and shuddered again. Cringing at the mere thought of that taste, Jack sipped from his glass – and decided knocking it down was the only way to go.

“Geez,” he wheezed and made a note to have Carter serve Fireball to the next badass SG-1 ran across. It'd scare any potential enemy away in a heartbeat.

Dean guffawed, a deep hoarse laugh, and refilled the glasses. “Now to the kid…”

“Ye-ah. Let's talk about the dog first?”

“Uh-huh… kid. Adopted? Surrogate mother?”

“Adopted. He's Daniel's nephew, his parents died in an accident when he was eight years old, we took him in. He's twelve now. He's named after his uncle, so his name is Daniel, too. We call him LD, Little D., the brat from hell…”

“Wow. I'm sorry about his parents.” Dean raised his glass again. “And glad he's still got family.”

The second shot of Fireball ran down Jack's throat, its sweet stickiness almost making him gag. “This stuff sucks big time.”

“It keeps people warm,” Dean grinned.

“So does Jack Daniels,” Jack growled.

“It's an acquired taste,” Dean agreed. He closed the bottle and put it back underneath the table. “Wait… you're still with the Air Force. You're not supposed to have same sex relationships, right?”

Maybe one more Fireball wouldn't hurt… Jack tilted his head, giving his brother his most threatening look. “If you breathe any of this to the wrong people I'll have to shoot you.”

Dean made a zipping motion with his right hand. “My lips are sealed, General O'Neill.”

Jack froze. “How do you...”

“Guessing here. You were a colonel ten years ago. I guess there's only one way up the career ladder from there.”

“Right.”

Dean sank into one of the leather chairs and stretched his legs. “Wow. I never knew you're...”

“No one did. Very few people do.” Jack sat down beside his brother. “Comes with the job. But now I guess I have to tell mom. And dad.” He lowered his head and scrubbed both hands through his hair. “Crap.”

“Why?” Dean sounded puzzled. “It's not like you need their blessing after being with your boyfriend for…?”

“Long enough.” The complicated nature of their relationship timeline always gave Jack a headache. He was never sure if the time before the downsizing counted or if his relationship with BD should be considered a different one than the one he used to have with Daniel…?

“At least I need to tell them about the kid,” Jack muttered. “Priorities.”

There was a knock on the door and a second later the love of Jack's life was standing there in living colors, all long leg-hugging jeans and warm white sweater with black Norwegian patterns across the chest. “Hey! Your mom said I might find you up here.”

Jack checked his watch. Tapped it, checked it again. “You're early.”

The accusation didn't faze Daniel in the least. “I know. The GPS sent us down a faster route.”

Dean nudged Jack's elbow. “That's him? That's your Daniel?”

“Yep, this is his Daniel.” Daniel smirked.

“Cool.” Dean got up and they shook hands. “I'm Dean, Jack's brother.”

“Yeah. Hi! I heard alllll about you,” Daniel lied with a totally straight face. “Only good things.”

Jack stared at the surreal scene playing out in front of him – his lover making small talk with his brother. Daniel, here, in the house Jack had grown up in – known to his family as a totally straight guy with no hints of being interested in guys.

He shook his head to snap out of it and rose from his seat. “Where's LD?”

“Oh, he's walking the dog. I think they're both in need of fresh air and some exercise after being cooped up in the truck for so long.”

Jack turned around to look out the window, automatically scanning the seemingly endless white plain for the small figure and his black companion. Sure enough he spotted them trotting towards the old landing strip. Flyboy ran ahead, dashed through the snow, then turned around, circled the kid and ran ahead again. Sometimes that dog still behaved like a puppy. Daniel walked at a slower pace, apparently in conversation with...

Jack squinted. “Who's with them?”

“Your dad.”

“Now, isn't that peachy.” Jack had no reason to worry about the kid blabbing anything he wasn't supposed to share. They all knew their cover story inside out and were able to deal with that kind of situation. But he had no idea how his old man would react to LD and LD could get a little testy when cornered or patronized, while his dad could be a little condescending at times. LD handled himself much better these days than he used to when he'd been just a munchkin, but letting those two loose on one another had to be a handle-with-care situation.

Daniel, as it happened all too often between them, read his mind. “He'll be fine. He knows how to handle the O'Neill species.”

“Oh, but I'm a teddy bear compared to him,” Jack snarked.

There was a low snort coming from Dean and Jack rolled his eyes as he turned to look at his partner. “When did you get here?”

Daniel shrugged. “Not long ago. Your father happened to be outside when we arrived. Flyboy decided they were best buddies, your dad was dog-charmed into going with them. I was told to let myself in and your mom told me you might be up here.”

“What the heck didya tell them?” Jack needed a bit of intel here.

Daniel glanced at Dean and Jack waved it off. “He knows.”

“Yeah, I figured that. Your dad took it amazingly well considering you apparently didn't prepare your parents at all for the fact that you've been a father again for the last five years. Your mother was doing something on her computer and shooed me out right after I introduced myself. I didn't get to tell her much beyond; I'm Daniel, I'm a colleague and a friend of Jack's and we stopped by to say hi.”

“I was just working on my coming out speech, using my brother for rehearsal.”

Daniel wasn't impressed. “I'm not talking about coming out. But you said you were going to talk to them about LD...”

“I was getting to that,” Jack snapped.

“LD texted you over an hour ago and you're up here, drinking...” Daniel picked up the bottle and read the label. “Cinnamon whiskey? Seriously? That's disgusting.”

Jack felt his jaw clench. “Choices were limited. What the hell were you thinking coming here?”

“Whoa, thanks, I'm happy to see you, too,” Daniel bit back.

“That's not the point.”

“Yes, that's exactly the point. It's Christmas, we are on leave, we need this time together.”

“Daniel...”

“Jack.”

“Oh for cryin'… I was going to tell them about LD!” After a short pause for drama he scowled. “You're early.”

It was Dean who got them into action when he said, “Uh, I don't want to interrupt you guys, but you really should talk to mom and prepare her for this.”

* * *

Flyboy loved the snow. For a dog who had spent the first two years of his life in Egypt he had a weird preference for the cold. White chunks splattered everywhere as he plowed through, chasing after nothing in particular.

Flyboy was a hoot and no one could resist his buoyant antics. Not even Jack's father who had given them the glare of all glares when they had first arrived and explained the situation … the cover story scenario… to him. Okay, BD had to get the credit for explaining it all while LD had hung back and watched the old man's reaction.

For a moment he had thought they'd be accused of lying and booted off the property, but then the dog had pummeled himself into Jon O'Neill's personal space, sniffed his hands and tilted his head in that funny way – as if he was going to start talking any moment.

Jack's dad and the dog had accessed each other for a long moment and then Flyboy had pushed his muzzle against Jon's hand and that hand had come to rest on the large head. Absently stroking the dog, O'Neill's chocolate brown eyes had moved to LD and lingered on him for another very long moment. “He didn't tell us he's got another kid.”

Daniel had seen BD's eyes narrow, but his voice had been light and upbeat when he replied, “He was probably waiting for the right moment. It's not something you just slap someone over the head with. Which, of course, is exactly what I just did and I apologize. We're sorry to intrude like this, but it's… I guess I hoped Jack had told you by now.”

“I didn't want to spend the holidays without my dad,” LD had jumped in. He was too old to play the 'cute' card like he occasionally used to when he'd been two or three years younger, but he had tried his best to at least do the 'lost boy' thing. “Holidays are kinda hard for me since my parents died. It helps when Jack is around.”

Jon had fondled Flyboy's ears and scratched behind them just the way he loved it. “What's his name?”

“Flyboy.”

“And you? Did he make you an O'Neill, all legally and by the book?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Walk with me. I guess that dog needs some leg stretchin', eh?” And with a nod at BD, “Door's open. You'll find Dot in the craft room. Through the small hallway behind the kitchen, second door to the left. Just knock so she won't think you're a burglar.”

That had been five minutes or so ago, but it felt much longer since they had started walking in silence. LD glanced at the man walking beside him. Jon O'Neill had a striking resemblance to Jack. Daniel wondered if in twenty years Jack would look exactly like his dad. It was a bit spooky.

“You got a fine dog there, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. O'Neill.”

“Call me Jon,” the old man said gruffly and Daniel suppressed a sigh of relief. He'd been worried Jack's dad might ask him to call him 'grandpa'. He could do the kid-act up to a point, but that would have been way too awkward.

After another moment of uncomfortable silence Daniel decided he had to start some sort of conversation. “I'm sorry Jack didn't tell you… about me.” He probably had the right to feel hurt or a little angry at Jack for not having told his folks yet, but he couldn't blame him. They should have given him more time to sit his parents down and explain things. “Please, don't be mad at him. We were supposed to stay at the cabin. Coming up here was a spur of the moment thing and we didn't let Jack know until we were almost here.”

“We don't talk much, Jack and I,” Jon muttered. “Not with each other or in general.”

 _Yeah, that's exactly what I thought. You probably didn't talk much even when you were still on speaking terms_. “If it helps any… Jack hasn't told me much about you either so we're on even ground.”

To Daniel's surprise that raised something like a smile out of Jack's father. “He didn't tell ya I was dead though?”

“Uh, no, sir.”

“That's something I guess,” Jon muttered under his breath.

Daniel decided it was time to change the subject. “Is all of this your land?”

“Yeah. Used to be my father's property. He never did anything much with it, liked it as it was. Did your… what do you call him anyway?”

“Jack. I used to call him Jack before, so we just left it at that.”

“Right. Did Jack tell you I used to be a pilot?”

“Yeah. He said you had an air taxi.”

“We had three planes. Over there,” Jon gestured to the left, “is the landing strip. Goes right down to the flooding area of the river.”

“Cool.”

“Do you like planes, Daniel?”

He had a feeling he was just about to pass or fail a test. He tread carefully. “I love to fly.”

He had loved flying the Ancient gate ship when they'd been stuck on Atlantis. It had been such ahead rush. He'd been on spaceships before, in helicopters, on real planes of course, even on a death glider once or twice. But it had always been either under life threatening conditions or just normal traveling to get somewhere. Flying the gate ship had been fun and he'd been able to focus on the flying and enjoy it. He'd suddenly understood why Jack was so addicted to it.

“So, Jack takes you flying sometimes?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you planning on joining the Air Force, too?”

“As a pilot? No. My parents were archeologists, so is my uncle. He works for the military as a civilian consultant. Maybe I'll do that, too, but I'm only 12 years old.” He gave Jon what he hoped was a carefree boy-ish grin. “I haven't made up my mind yet.”

Jon gave him a sharp accessing look. “You're not one of those kids who sit around in front of the TV all day without a clue what to do with their time, are you?”

Daniel almost laughed at that. “No, sir, I'm not one of those kids.”

“Mhh, good. I can't stand kids like that. What do you do with your time, eh?”

“I read. I like history and languages. My uncle's specialty is Egyptology. I kinda inherited that. I like artifacts, every single one of them tells a different story.”

Jon raised his eyebrows and grumbled. “My son adopted a geek.”

Daniel grinned. “I also do martial arts and Jack trained me in hand-to-hand combat.”

“A geek and a fighting machine.”

“Indiana Jones is my role model,” Daniel deadpanned.

O'Neill Sr snorted.

Flyboy returned from one of his sprints and pushed his head against Daniel's thigh, prompting him with a nudge of his nose. Daniel reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved the red rubber ball he had brought with him. There were always some dog toys in the truck for when they took Flyboy to the mountain.

Daniel teased the dog for a moment, only pretending to throw the ball, before he finally let go and watched Flyboy make a beeline for it.

“How long have you been living with Jack?” Jon asked out of the blue.

“Five years.”

“Five years,” Jon repeated flatly.

Daniel winced. “I'm sure he would've told you if...”

“No, he wouldn't have. But it's his life, his decision. We're basically strangers. We hadn't seen each other in a long time. Not until Dot called and told him all this nonsense about a damn heart attack,” Jon ground out.

Now this was interesting. “There was no heart attack?”

“Nope. Just heartburn. You know what that is?”

“Uh, yeah. Something about acid indigestion.” When Jon gave him a surprised look Daniel added quickly, “I have a friend who's dad has it.”

“That's it. Heartburn. Nothing too serious for an old coot like me.”

“Oh. So she tricked Jack into coming up here to sort stuff out? That makes sense. Before he left Jack told us he hadn't talked to you since Charlie died.”

Jon stopped dead In his tracks. “Jack told you about Charlie?”

Daniel stopped, too, burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Even with all his layers of clothing he was beginning to feel cold now. “Uh, yeah.”

“All of it?”

Daniel didn't like how brittle Jon's voice sounded and how old he suddenly looked. He sensed a well of unresolved pain there. Pain Daniel himself was way too familiar with. Time usually was a healing factor, but it couldn't mend all of it. For any of them. Jack's dad, however, seemed to still be stuck in some earlier stage of his grief for Charlie.

_He hasn't moved on._

Just like Jack hadn't been ready to move on for a long time and even after Abydos it had taken a lot of patience and sensitivity on Daniel's part to get Jack to process and work through what had happened to his son.

Maybe Jack's mom hadn't been able to reach her husband or she had been too immersed in her own grief to help, just like Sara had been.

They turned around and walked back, followed by the dog.

“We just had a similar backstory, Jack and I,” Daniel said quietly. “He lost his son...”

* * *

“...the kid lost his parents.” Jack put a cup of tea on the table in front of his white-faced wide-eyed mother. “We kind of clicked.”

“And I was missing in action at the time. Jack and Daniel knew each other, already had a good relationship before. Jack is my next of kin and there are no living relatives.”

“I took him in, we...” Jack glanced at Daniel who jumped in.

“They helped each other heal in a way.”

All of that was true, only the time frames were a bit sketchy.

Dorothy took a tiny sip from her tea, the cup slightly trembling in her small hands. “Why didn't you tell us? We would have… yes, even Jon… would have welcomed him as another grandchild. We still would, if that's something he'd appreciate.”

Oy. Jack sank onto a chair across from her. He shook his head. “It was difficult. Daniel had… issues. Bringing him here would have made things worse. And I didn't want him to get stuck between the fronts either. He needed time to adjust.”

Dorothy's hazel eyes searched his and he held her gaze. “I'm sorry. I know you would have loved him like he was really your grandson. But Daniel wasn't ready for that.”

“And you weren't ready to face your father,” she said.

Jack cringed. His estrangement from Jon had actually been the least of his worries during those first difficult years with LD. But she was probably right anyway. “Maybe,” he muttered.

“So… I have a grandson out there,” Dorothy said slowly.

“Ye-ah. Just...” Jack scrubbed a hand through his gray hair and shot Daniel a desperate look.

“Daniel is a great kid, but he needs space and time to adjust to all this,” Daniel said carefully.

“Don't crowd him, okay?” Jack bottom lined it.

“Here they are.” Dean, who was standing by the window, let them know.

“Oh, good. I can't wait to meet him,” Dorothy twittered, all of a sudden rejuvenated as she went out to greet them.

“Oy,” Jack groaned and rushed after her.

His mom opened the door wide and invited them in with a cheerful, “Come in, come in, it's cold out there!”

Flyboy burst through the open door first and Jack barely managed to stop the black beast from jumping him. Even after all these years that dog kept forgetting his manners. Little D insisted that Flyboy was just very emotional and too overcome with joy when he greeted his humans.

Jack knew that dog was just spoiled rotten.

They took off their ice crusted boots and left them by the door. Jon brushed past them and vanished into the house without a word. LD slowly pulled down the zipper of his jacket, giving Jack's mom a lopsided smile, before his eyes slid over to settle on Jack who was already moving to his side, putting a reassuring hand on Daniel's tense back. “Mom, meet Daniel. Daniel...”

“I'm Dorothy, but everyone calls me Dot.” She stepped forward and Jack was pretty sure she was going to hug the kid, but then she just held out her small hand.

Jack felt Daniel's shoulders sag in relief as he took it. “Hi, I'm Daniel, but everyone calls me LD, like Little Daniel, because there're two of us.”

“Oh, yes, of course. My mother's name was Dorothy, too. When I was a child they called me Little Dot.”

“You used to be a LD too, then,” Daniel said with a smile.

“Oh, you're right! Thankfully I lost the 'Little' as I grew older. Sadly I never really grew out of being little,” she chuckled. “But don't just stand there, come in! And introduce me to your friend. My, he's a gorgeous dog.”

“That's Flyboy.”

“Does Flyboy like Power Bites? They're Texas beef. I always have dog treats here for the dogs of the guys who have planes here.”

“Flyboy likes anything edible,” Daniel assured her as they moved into the kitchen where Dot retrieved a tin can with Power Bites. Dean, after quickly introducing himself to LD, joined the dog-appreciation-club and immediately won kid and dog over by going down on his knees to receive slobbery kisses.

Flyboy sucked up all the attention like a sponge and even rolled over to have his belly scratched by Jack's brother.

Jack hung back and watched, joined by BD who leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I always knew the dog was the perfect ice breaker. We should take him on missions.”

“You didn't answer my question,” Jack snapped, keeping his voice down.

“What?”

“Why are you here?”

“You really want to discuss that now?”

Jack swallowed a curse and shook his head. “This conversation isn't over, Daniel.”

“Neither is the other one,” Daniel replied coolly.

“What other one?”

“The one about why you didn't tell them we were on the way.”

“I was going to...”

“But you didn't.”

“But I was gonna...”

“And yet, you did not.”

“I had my reasons.”

“Good. I'd like to hear them.”

Jack was saved from an answer when his mom asked if they had brought any luggage. Daniel pushed off the counter and checked his watch. “Everything is still in the truck. We should probably drive back into town and see if we can find a motel. We came here totally uninvited and...”

“Oh, nonsense! You will stay here of course! You are Jack's family, you are our family.” Dot raised herself to her full height – which wasn't very impressive, but no one would dare to argue with Mama O'Neill when she said something like 'nonsense'. Just like Doc Fraiser Dot's feisty personality made up for any missing inches in her physical appearance.

Daniel addressed Jack's mother but his eyes bored into Jack. “Thank you, Mrs O'Neill...”

“I am Dot, or Dorothy, not Mrs and not Ma'am. Both make me feel old and dusty. I am Dorothy, not aunt Em.”

“Hail Dorothy,” LD smirked. “And now I know why Jack loves the Wizard of Oz so much.”

Dorothy chuckled. “it's a family thing. We all do.”

Daniel cleared his throat. “Thank you, Dorothy, but Jack seems to be...”

Jack unclenched his jaw and strode out. “Let's get your stuff.”

The Daniels followed suit and as soon as they were in the driveway and Big Daniel had opened the truck, the kid raised both hands in a submissive gesture. “Juuust for the record; It wasn't my idea!”

“Oh, and of course you did all you could to talk him out of it, didya?” Jack started hauling bags from the truck's bed.

LD shrugged and squinted at him from underneath his bangs. “Hey, I'm just a...”

“...brat, yeah, I know. That's exactly what you are. Go, get that inside and ask your grandma where she wants you to sleep.” Jack pushed a backpack into LD's arms.

Daniel shouldered it and trudged up the stairs, muttering. “I'm glad it wasn't my idea to come because it was a real bad idea.”

Jack sighed. “Daniel… wait.”

LD dropped the backpack on the deck and reluctantly came back down. “What?”

“It was a bad idea,” Jack agreed.

“Yeah, well, thanks for confirming that.”

“Doesn't mean I don't appreciate you're here. The timing just sucked a little.”

LD gave him a sheepish grin. “I know. Sorry for that.”

Jack grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him into a quick one armed hug.

“Ja-ack,” Daniel groused, but let it happen and even rested his head against Jack's shoulder for a brief moment.

“Hey, you came all the way out here to see me, you get a hug,” Jack smirked. “Payback is a bitch and all that.”

“Hurray,” LD muttered.

Jack let go of him, but kept a hand on his shoulder to keep him from taking off immediately. “You okay?”

“Your dad didn't bite my head off if that's what you've been worried about.” LD glanced back at the house, then lowered his voice when he continued, “He's a very bitter man, Jack. He reminds me of you a lot. When we first met, before...”

“So you think it's genetic, eh?”

“I think he needs to let go. And to let it go he has to face it first.”

“Ye-ah. And if you think I was a piece of work, try to get that through to him.”

“Uh, sorry, I'm staying out of that one. Now kiss and make up, before you freeze to death.” LD grabbed another bag and made his way back up into the house.

“You ARE a brat,” Jack hollered after him.

Daniel pulled the tarp back over the truck's bed and tied it. “Bad idea, huh? Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't fair to dump this on you the way we did.”

“Ya think?”

“Face it, Jack, if we'd told you earlier you wouldn't have been less pissed.

“I would have had more time to tell my folks.”

“You had two hours. Well, one and a half.”

“Daniel, in case you didn't notice; my parents and I hadn't been in touch for years. My dad and I were basically non existent to each other. We just barely managed to talk like civilized people again.”

Daniel gave him a long look. “Wow. That bad, huh?”

“Yes, wow, that bad. So, tell me, Daniel, how would you have handled this whole mess?” Which was a stupid thing to say. Of course Daniel would have handled it. Daniel had the words to talk big bad aliens into trusting him.

“I would have told them.”

“Of course you would have,” Jack spat.

“I never said it would have been easy or not weird. But at least I would have tried.”

“Oh, now we're back to 'blame it all on Jack', are we?”

“Oh, come on, Jack! This isn't about who's to blame. You screwed up and now you're embarrassed and mad at yourself. I get that and it's okay, but don't try to put this all on me.”

“I am NOT the one who crossed boundaries here!”

“Jack, your dad had a heart attack! What's so wrong about wanting to be here to help! What's wrong with wanting to spend the holidays together!”

“It wasn't a damn heart attack and I would have been with you by tomorrow!”

Daniel blinked. “What?”

Jack threw up his hands. “It was a heart burn. My sweet mother bluffed me into coming home to have it out with dad. Here I am, trying. Not much luck so far.” He leaned against the truck and kicked a chunk of snow aside.

“Why didn't you text me?”

“What?”

“When you knew it wasn't a heart attack. Why didn't you...”

Jack stared at the cloudless bright sky for a moment, feeling like the biggest fool under the sun. “It was supposed to be a surprise. I thought...” He shrugged it off. “Never mind.”

“Oh. I guess we were faster,” Daniel said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Hey, surprise.”

“Great minds think alike? Birds of a feather? Takes one idiot to know one?” Jack edged closer until their elbows touched.

Daniel leaned into him just so. “Think they're watching us from your mom's kitchen?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Wanna come out of your closet now?”

“Kiss and make up?”

“That would be one memorable Christmas.”

They looked at each other and for a daring moment Jack thought he would do it. Then the moment was gone, they grabbed the bags and started moving.

“Might be a bit too much right now,” Daniel murmured.

When they entered the kitchen everyone was busy with something, acting suspiciously unsuspicious.

LD was leafing through one of Dot's old cookbooks, Dean emptied the dishwasher and Dot who was kneading dough at the table, caught in a small flour cloud, told them to take Daniel's bags into Angus' room. “LD decided he's gonna sleep in the attic. Jack, you can help him carry one of the field beds up there later.”

“Angus?” Daniel whispered when they were on the stairs.

“Don't ask. My youngest brother… It's a homage to our Irish heritage. It means superior strength or something. I guess you have to be exceptionally strong to live with that name.”

“Where is this exceptionally strong guy?”

“Somewhere in India, making the world a better place.” Jack walked past his own room and pushed the next door open. “Here we are. The Angus suite, Doctor Jackson.”

“You seem to have a very interesting family. I'd like to hear all about them.” Daniel dropped his bags on the bed and took a look around. “Your mom is the nostalgic type. And your brother was a kid with a great yen to see distant places.”

They gazed at a wall plastered in old pictures of deserts, pyramids, the Taj Mahal, an acropolis. In one corner Jack spotted a shisha standing on a small bamboo table. It's bowl was made from colorful glass, varying from turquoise, blue to purple and green-ish. Jack didn't remember having seen it before. Angus must have brought it home from one of his trips.

“He used to spend hours at the library reading books about those places or looking at pictures. He's always been a...”

“Geek,” Daniel said with a grin. “Are you close?”

“Used to be. All three of us, strong bonds.” Jack stared at Daniel who had no physical resemblance with either one of his brothers. And yet he suddenly realized that at least part of what had first attracted him to Daniel had probably been connected to his own family. Very early when they had barely known each other Jack had already felt this strong pull towards Daniel, paired with an even stronger need to keep an eye on him, to protect him.

It was what he used to do as the oldest brother. Despite all the trouble he'd gotten himself into as a kid he had always felt this responsibility for Dean and Angus. No one had gotten between them when it had come down to it.

“And you drifted apart from them because of that fall out with your dad. He's mad at you? Because of Charlie? That's a long time to carry around so much agony,” Daniel said.

Jack walked over to the table hockey crammed into another corner. It had used to be in the attic when Jack had still lived here. Then it had been in Charlie's room for a while. Somehow it had ended up here. He pulled at one of the handles, making the players slide across the 'ice'.

“The O'Neills like to hang on to their grudges.” Sobering, he added, “He's clinging to his anger because in a way it's easier to be angry.”

“And now we know where you got that from,” Daniel teased gently.

“He loved Charlie. Well, everyone did, but Jon and Charlie were like...” Jack paused and looked for the puck, then shot it across the surface, hitting the goalie with it. “They were like me and my grandpa.” Another thing he had never seen in this context.

“And then he died.”

“And then he died. And I pulled the trigger. As far as my father is concerned I killed him. And he's right, I did. I can acknowledge that my kid disobeyed me, that he knew he wasn't supposed to play with my gun, that he wasn't even supposed to go into our bedroom and open that drawer. But I should never have left that gun in there, loaded.”

Daniel joined him at the table and manipulated the goalie, sending the puck back to the position of Jack's player. “Yeah. It never goes away.” Like Jack, Daniel had learned to live with his own losses a long time ago.

“Nope. But you never take your blessings for granted anymore and that's not a bad thing.” Jack looked at Daniel across the table. “I'm sorry I didn't tell them about LD. And us.”

“I'd never expect you to tell them about us. It was awkward when we got here and no one knew about the kid, but I get it's a difficult situation. It's okay.”

“No. It's not. You and LD are...” _the most important people in my life_.

“I know. And LD knows that, too. There's no need to prove anything, Jack.”

“I told my dad yesterday that it's okay to take a second chance if it's offered.” And he should let his parents know that LD and Daniel had been his second chance.

“Do you think he heard you?”

“I have no clue.”


	7. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**V** **II**

“This is such a cool tree,” Little Daniel walked around it, momentarily forgetting that he was a composed and mature pre-teen… sort off. He loved Christmas trees. Ever since he had stopped denying himself the joy of the holidays in this weird second childhood gift, he had made no secret of the fact that one of his favorite Christmas features was decorating the tree. It allowed him to be a kid without feeling awkward – because people of all ages loved decorating the tree and being a bit jolly around this time of year.

He admired the filigree artwork of hand blown and colored baubles, but loved the ordinary ones with glitter or single-colored, too. Every year he coaxed someone into going decoration shopping with him. Mostly it was Teal'c who accompanied him on his quest for new baubles, garlands, figurines and other stuff to hang on the tree. His goal was to have a different theme for every year or to find the most fancy item. The downside of this was that they needed space to store all the boxes somewhere and Jack had put his foot down when they had to move some of them over to BD's house in order to make space for new ones. However, this year, due to the whole Ori mess no one had been in the mood to buy new decorations anyway.

But the O'Neill tree was a well of wonderful kitschy decoration, old and new, homemade and bought. Nothing matched, but everything was a gem in its own way.

“It's been family tradition to create one new thing every season. When the boys left I kept it up, but mine are pretty boring compared to what they had come up with when they still lived here.” Dot reached up and touched a carved little raccoon with a painted-on black mask around his eyes. “Jonny… Jack made this when he was eight or nine.”

“That's Zorro.”

“Yes! That was the name of his raccoon. It's nice to know he at least told you a little bit from home.”

“I had a raccoon once. I found it under our deck, it was hurt. Jack built a kennel for it and I kept it until it was healed. We found a good home for it.”

Jack's mom smiled a bit ruefully. “That's lovely.”

Daniel knew Zorro hadn't gotten so lucky. When Jack had released him back into the wild the raccoon had returned and brought his whole family. To get rid of them, Jon had killed them all. He knew times had been different then and even now raccoons were seen as vermin, but when Jack told him Daniel had sensed how hard it had hit Jack as a kid.

He decided not to bring it up. Instead he let his curiosity take over. “Can I ask you something, Dot? Why do you call Jack 'Jonny'? I know his first name is actually Jonathan, but...” He shrugged. “Or maybe the question should be why does he go by Jack now?”

She sighed. “It's complicated. You know, Jonathan is also his dad's name. Jack's second name comes from Jon's father, Jack's granddad. When Jack was little we all called him Jonny. But Jonny was very drawn to his grandfather, they shared a special bond. At some point he decided he was too old for 'Jonny' but wanted to go by Jack, not Jonathan. To honor his grandpa, to annoy his dad… I don't know which was the stronger motivation.” Dot pursed her lip. “I never got quite used to it, but eventually everyone else did. And he simply stopped reacting to being called 'Jonny'. So he's been Jack ever since.” She waved it off like a woman who had resigned to the fact that she could not mend the father-son conflicts in this house.

Daniel felt sorry for her. It had to be hard to be in the middle of so much O'Neill stubbornness.

He brushed his fingertips over an angel made of wire and yarn.

“That's from Dean,” Dot said, brightening immediately “He burned a hole in the kitchen table when he brazed the wires together. You can still see the black stain if you look closely. He then wrapped yarn around the wire to give the angel color. It used to be red and yellow, but it's faded so much over the years.”

There was a scarecrow made from real straw and a cowardly lion clumsily stitched together from yellow and brown remnants, its eyes two tiny black buttons. Painted tin bells and glass figurines completed the wondrous collection of ornaments.

And then there was a large purple bauble smack in the middle of the tree. Written in bold unruly glittery-glue letters was the word: NANA DOT. Each letter was in a different color, so that the word looked like a rainbow.

“Charlie did this,” Daniel blurted out and then bit his lip. What if mentioning Charlie would make her sad or angry? But when he squinted at Dorothy, she just smiled.

“Charlie also did this one.” She tapped a polymer clay gingerbread man. “And this one...” A green clay plane. “He spent every other Christmas with us.”

“Don't you have any other grandkids?” Daniel asked.

A shadow fell over her face as she shook her head. “No. Dean got divorced before there were any children and Angus has a girlfriend who we haven't met yet. Her name is Nikki and she works with him. Sometimes it feels like I really only have one son because Dean is the only one still living close enough to spend time with us regularly.” She clapped her hands. “But enough of that! See up there? Angus made the tree topper.”

When Daniel looked up he spotted a silver star sprinkled with gold and taped together with… “Duct tape?”

“It wasn't originally like that, but one year when we put it up, it tore apart. I really love this tree topper though so my son fixed it. He said he'd make me a new one, but somehow we are still using this. I have other tree toppers, but this one is my favorite. That year when Angus made it, he was down with a very bad bronchitis, coughing his lungs out and running a high fever. We would have taken him to the hospital, but were snowed in so we tried to treat him here as best as possible. I can still see him sitting in his bed, his cheeks red from fever. He was tired all the time, the coughing really got to him. But he wanted to craft his ornament so badly. He must have been five or six at the time… Jack was ten… I think…” Dot seemed lost in thoughts for a moment, then shrugged and continued. “I insisted he needed rest, but his brothers took all the crafting materials to his room and they all sat together in his bed cutting out paper and making a mess with glitter, glue and paint. But Angus was so happy that they helped him to make his ornament, I couldn't even be mad at them. I found gold glitter in Angus' bed, underneath his bed and everywhere around it for days and weeks afterwards.” She chuckled, but sobered as she continued. “That day when he'd finished his star the fever started to break. It's probably just a strange coincidence, but I always connect my boy getting better to this star.”

“Christmas magic?” Daniel asked. He crossed the room and looked at the nativity scene for a moment.

“Who knows. Do you believe in a bit of Christmas magic, Daniel?”

Daniel remembered how he had met some shopping mall Santa Clause at Time Square once when he'd been eight. It had been his first Christmas after his parents died. That Santa had asked him what his biggest wish would be and he had said a new family. It had taken years for that wish to come true, but in the end he'd gotten his wish. In a way he had even gotten his wish twice. He'd found a family in SG-1 and then he'd found that same family to help him grow up again. And four years ago celebrating Christmas had somehow been crucial for him to turn his worst nightmare into something different, a chance to live his life over again and make differences for himself. He'd suddenly seen the possibilities and not only his limitations.

“I believe Christmas can be a magical time because we are more open, more vulnerable and all the edges soften,” he said, absently picking up the baby Jesus from its manger and holding it in his hands for a moment. “But that only works if people allow it to happen.”

“Do you allow it to happen?” Her voice was soft and he was sure she wanted to hug him.

“I try. Sometimes it works.” He quickly crouched and carefully placed the baby back in its bed of straw. When he straightened up again, Dot fiddled with the fir garland on the mantlepiece, adjusting one of the white pillar candles. She looked over, assessing him for a moment.

“Now, can I ask you something, Daniel?”

“Sure.”

But instead of going on with her actual question she scurried over to a cabinet, opened it and retrieved a white porcelain jar. “What do you think of Chocolate Chip cookies?”

They sat on a brown plush couch and both took a cookie. It was a perfect cookie, chewy and with big chunks of dark and white chocolate.

“I love them.” Daniel's cookie was gone way too fast and he longingly gazed at the jar.

“Me too. I have a weakness for them. I even prefer them over real cake,” Dot shared with him like it was a precious secret. “Here, take one more. It's still time til dinner.”

“Thanks.” He took another one and ate it more slowly to savor the taste. He wondered if this was what it felt like to have a grandma. Sitting in a slightly overstuffed living room with a grandfather clock, a rocking chair and old fashioned plush couches, eating cookies and listening to stories from when your parents were little.

“You wanted to ask me something?” he reminded Dot when they were both done with the second cookie.

“Oh, yes. You'll probably think I'm a nosy old bat and I don't want to embarrass you...” She brushed imaginary crumbs from her dark blue and white polka dotted apron. “But… you see, I haven't seen Jack in a very long time, nor talked to him and it's… Would you say he's happy? Or at least content? You seem a pretty smart boy so I thought you'd know if he wasn't...” She trailed off and shook her head. “I AM a nosy old bat.”

“You're his mom. Moms want to know these things about their kids.”

She smiled and Daniel decided he really liked her smile. It made her face all soft. “I guess you're right.”

Daniel wanted to point out that his 'uncle' was in a far better position to tell her if Jack was happy, but this was something Jack had to do. Still, he felt the words forming in his head and then they were out before he could hold back. “You might want to talk to my uncle about that.”

“Oh?”

“Uh, because, you know, it's grown up stuff and they're like best buddies. It's not like Jack tells me everything. But yeah, I think he's both, content and happy. Not all the time, but a lot of the time. He's also cranky a lot, but that's just superficial.”

There, that was good. If she drew her own conclusion from this it wasn't his fault. And if she didn't no one would be the wiser.

“Thank you, honey. And thank you for not judging me for being sentimental and a bit teary right now. But to know this means a lot. And he would never share his feelings with me.” She blinked away moisture from her eyes.

Daniel did the only thing he could think off right now. A bit clumsily he took her small hand in his. He felt the calluses of her fingers and the thick band of her wedding ring resting cool against his own smooth skin. “I'm glad you made him come to see you,” he said. “And even if he was mad, he knows you did the right thing.”

“Are you sure?” She turned their hands over and squeezed his before letting go.

“Yeah.” And if Jack didn't get his head out of his butt and show his mom some love and affection soon, Daniel would kick said butt, hard.

Just as Dot put away the cookie jar, Jack stuck his head through the open living room door. He was all bundled up and rubbing his gloved hands. “Here you are, kiddo. C'mon, there's work to do.”

* * *

“Are you serious?” Little Daniel stared at the tangled ball of light string Jack had just handed him.

“Oh yeah.” Jack tossed his own light string ball in the air, caught it and then waved it at LD. “Who _ever_ untangles his first gets the biggest chunk of dessert.”

“That's it? That's all you have to offer?” LD shook the ball, not one wire came loose. “Where is Daniel? Why can't he have fun with this, too?”

“He and Dean are setting up the ladders and checking all the hooks and holders for the cord lines.”

“Hooks? I thought the strings are stapled to the walls?”

“Nope. My dad drilled hooks into the walls and the roof line. You can pull the strings through them or hook them up properly. That way there's much less damage to the cords and you don't have to pull out hundreds of staples after the holidays. You just have to make sure every year that all the hooks are set and not broken.”

They sat down on an old porch swing and started untangling. There were three more strings lying on the swing seat next to LD. Once they had found the end of their strings it wasn't too hard.

“You need more light strings than these if you want to cover the whole house with it,” LD observed, his fingers quickly pulling and tugging on the cord.

“We're only doing the front. The house has old power lines, they won't handle more than that.” His brother had told him earlier there hadn't been lights up the last couple of years because Dot insisted Jon stay off the roof and Dean hadn't fancied the idea of putting them up alone.

Jack knew how much his mom had always loved the lights. “When we come home from church the house is like a warm beacon in the dark,” she used to say.

It had taken very little prompting to get Daniel involved and they had decided to get to work as long as there was still light.

“I like your mom,” LD said out of the blue.

“Yeah?” Jack eyed him carefully. “I think she likes you, too.”

“I guess. I'm not sure about your dad, though.” The kid focused on his work and didn't look up, but Jack could hear the slight tension in his voice.

“Can't tell you either,” Jack said on a sigh. “But I can tell you that even if he doesn't like you, it's not your fault or your doing. Don't take any of this personally. It's me he's mad at, no one else.”

“But it's poisoning everyone else, even your mom.”

“I know.” Jack worked on a particularly annoying knot in the wires which were wrapped around several of the tiny lights so tight as if they were fused. “I had no idea how bad it still is.” He hadn't even considered how much his mother had suffered, still suffered, from his fallout with Jon, once they stopped calling and writing.

Hell, his life had been one roller coaster after another, he had hardly thought about his parents or his brothers, only here and there in fleeting moments, always with that foul taste of guilt and stubborn resentment.

It seemed that while he'd been so focused on his own acquired family and work he had almost forgotten the family he'd been born into. Out of sight, out of mind.

He felt Daniel's eyes on him then. “I know you can't 'make' your dad forgive you or at least listen to you. But you have to promise me you won't stop trying. For your mom's sake.”

“I'm trying. It's all I can give you.”

“Good enough,” Daniel nodded, then a grin blossomed on his face. “If I get my string untangled first, I get to climb the roof. I can help attach it.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You can work on the walls, that's high enough.”

“Hello? Mountain climber here? I can handle the roof.”

“Roof's slippery, there's probably ice up there. And you haven't climbed any mountains in quite a while.”

“Have you?”

“What?”

“Climbed any mountains lately?”

“No-oh, but I was already in Special Ops training when you were still...” Jack looked around quickly to make sure no one was around to listen in on them, “...playing in sandboxes.”

“You mean working on dig sites during my college years.”

“Whatever.”

Daniel snorted. “I won't fall off that roof.”

“Nope you won't because you're not getting on that roof.”

Daniel did something quick and squirrely with his fingers and his light string was untangled. He grabbed the next one and started on it right away, but Jack wasn't fooled. The kid didn't miss a beat here, he was just working on his next move.

“Did ya hear me?” Jack asked.

“Huh? Yeah, sure. You said I am not going on the roof.” Daniel gave him the innocent little boy look. “That's what you said, right? My hearing is all good.”

Ah, the quirks of living with linguists. “Daniel, if I let you clamber around on that roof and you get hurt or my mom gets to see you up there, she's gonna have my hide. That's not helping the overall situation.”

“Your mom isn't out here, how would she see me?”

It was like an automatic behavior pattern sometimes. Jack suspected Daniel often did it without even realizing he was doing it. Fighting him every step of the way just to win an argument. It was still happening. Not nearly as frequently or as heated as it used to be, but these situations still occurred.

In a way though, this kind of attitude seemed more natural to Jack than the newly developing habit of retreating and sulking Daniel had acquired lately. The verbal sparing was something Jack was used to and could deal with.

“Okay. Fine. Let me spell this out for you, buddy. You climb that roof, you'll miss out on coffee for a week.”

There was a pout. “But...”

“Two.”

“That's not...”

“Stop arguing and I'll stop adding weeks.”

Daniel heaved a long suffering sigh. “Fine. No roof. Gotcha.”

Jack continued to untangle. “Good.”

They worked silently for a couple of minutes. Daniel was probably sulking and Jack let him. Finally the kid spoke up again, “I guess you're right about your mom.” After another moment he started sniggering.

“What?”

“Nothing… just the thought of your mom 'having your hide' is funny. I'd like to see that.”

“You know Janet tears all of us a new one from time to time. Let me tell ya, the smallest women are the most dangerous.”

Once they were done with all the strings Jack took them to the power source and plugged them in one by one to make sure they were all working. Daniel helped check each bulb. “Don't you have reindeer and a Santa in a sleigh, like the Griswolds in that movie?” he asked.

“Used to. Dean said it's broken.” Thank god. He had always hated that clunky old thing with its pointy antlers and dead, painted-on eyes.

“Oh, Jack!” LD tugged at his jacket sleeve, bouncing on the balls of his toes. Jack saw an idea spring from the kid's bottomless well of ideas. “We could...”

“No, Daniel. We are not buying sleighs or reindeer or Santas for our yard.” But he had to grin nevertheless. Daniel's enthusiasm about Christmas had taken on strange forms. Not in a bad way, more in a funny way. To stall further arguments he raised a finger and added. “Aht! If you want a reindeer and sleigh you have to put it in your room. Those things are huge and ugly. I won't have it anywhere in my backyard. Besides, it'll only make the dog want to destroy it.”

“Why is it 'your backyard' now, but 'our backyard' when you want me to help working in it?”

“Daniel.”

“Okay, okay. But, hey, we could make its eyes glow,” Daniel coaxed. “I bet Sam could do it. It'd be an alien reindeer. We could call it Apophis.”

Jack snorted and was saved from continuing this discussion by Big Daniel and Dean showing up to let them know all hooks were fixed. They had two ladders. Jack and BD volunteered to attach the lights to the roof line while Dean and LD would use the ladders to work on the walls. Before they went to work, Jack quickly got hold of the hood of LD's jacket and pulled him aside.

“Play it safe, Daniel. You pull any stunts on that ladder and the fun's over for you.”

Daniel sighed. “Jack. Would you rather I go inside and keep your mom company? Would that make you feel better?”

“I want you to be careful.” Jack KNEW Daniel was able to handle himself on a ladder. He had completely outgrown those slight motor skill issues he had battled when he'd first been downsized, and his regular exercises had long since helped him deal with the difference in height and physical strength from when he'd been big. Daniel was comfortable in his own skin now and it showed.

Which was exactly why he felt limitless sometimes. Young and strong. Superpowers. Jack remembered that feeling all too well. And while Daniel wasn't a reckless guy perse his confidence sometimes got the better of him.

“I'll be careful.” Daniel had the decency not to roll his eyes.

“Good enough.” He patted the boy's hood and let him go.

The roof didn't turn out as slippery as Jack had expected. Dean and Daniel had swept the snow off at the front side and the wood shingles were pretty dry under their boots. The pre-installed hooks were at the shingle edge and all they had to do was kneel and fiddle the light strings through the hooks and fasten them with special clips. They started on opposite sides of the roof line and would finally met at the top.

Halfway through this Jack wished he had let Dean do the job. His knees were already bitching at him and standing on a ladder to work on the wall lights seemed oh-so-much better. Groaning, he stood, pressing both hands to the small of his back and bending his knees to take the pressure off of them.

Damn, he was getting too old for this. Or riding a desk for the last two years was starting to show. He'd gone soft in places he'd never been soft before, too. He had developed something his significant other teasingly – and as Jack liked to imagine affectionately - called 'love handles'.

He glanced over at Daniel who was already closing in on the roof top. Of course he was. Bastard. Jack crouched down, refusing to even groan, and doggedly worked on.

He was close to his goal when Daniel appeared by his side. “I'm done.”

“Of course you are,” Jack grouched.

A warm large hand slid into the collar of his jacket, settling on his neck. “Knees bugging you?”

“Why? Can you hear them screaming?” Jack pulled another hook open, slipped the cord in, clicked it shut and secured the string with a clip.

“I can hear my knees screaming,” Daniel deadpanned. “Okay, not screaming, maybe, but protesting. It's definitely bad work for knees beyond the forties.”

“Just you wait 'til you're beyond fifty,” Jack muttered. He counted four more hooks to go. That was doable. Hell, he used to crawl through mud and desert sand on his front and knees for miles, he could handle a bit of kneeling on a roof. He peered down to check on LD who was chatting away with Dean while they hooked up strings.

Four hooks later, Jack struggled to his feet, his knees whimpering and his back sighing in relief. Daniel hung back. He knew better than to try and help him up. Jack straightened his jacket, pulled off his cap and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“You can really see pretty far from here.” Daniel looked out over the neighborhood, the bridge crossing Clearwarter River and the golf club in the distance. The sun was just about to set and send out its painted fingers across the sky.

Jack tapped his shoulder. “C'mon. You need to see the real view.”

They carefully crossed the snowy roof to the back of the house and then stood there, two lone figures on a roof in the middle of nowhere. It was easy to zone out the fact that there was civilization just on the other side of the road.

The orange-purple strips of sunlight started coloring the sky and reflected in the vast snowland ahead of them.

“Wow,” Daniel said softly.

“Sometimes there're northern lights. When I was a kid my dad woke us in the middle of the night so we could see them. He called them God's paintings.” Jack wrapped one arm around Daniel's middle, sidling up to him until they were hip to hip, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. Touching.

“It's stunning without northern lights,” Daniel said.

“This is what you saved,” Jack whispered in his ear. “This and countless of other places like it on Earth. No Ori bastard will ever get their eyes or hands on this.”

“We saved it,” Daniel corrected.

“I only tried to juggle the balls. You, Carter and Teal'c. And all the other teams going out there every day to fight those battles – you did the saving.”

“You juggled those balls very well,” Daniel whispered.

Jack shook his head. “Would you be shocked if I told you I still want Hammond back sometimes?”

Daniel shrugged. “I still want you back in the field sometimes.”

Jack smirked. “Miss me, eh?”

“All the inappropriate sarcasm, heated arguments, insults and bitching? Hell, yes.” When Jack snorted, Daniel poked him with his elbow. “No, really, it made for great stress relief sometimes. I don't have anyone to blame anymore when things go wrong.”

“I know what you mean,” Jack sighed. “Yelling and bitching at Walter just isn't the same as yelling at you.”

“Since yelling and bitching usually works like foreplay for us I sure hope it's NOT the same with Walter.”

“Well, I can't speak for Walter, but he never yells or bitches back at me, so…”

“Walter is too formal and respectable to ever bitch at you, but I bet his wife gets to hear alll about you.” Daniel grinned and there were sparks of mischief in his eyes. There were also fine lines around his eyes which hadn't been there a couple months ago, or at least hadn't been as prominent. Jack liked to think of them as laugh lines, but lately there hadn't been much to laugh about for any of them. Bottom line was none of them was getting any younger here. Not that it mattered anyway. Jack loved every inch of the man's body and skin, just as much as he loved every bit of his mind… most of the time anyway.

“Jack…” The grin faded, so did the spark of mischief. There was a bit of lip biting and eyebrow crinkling. Body language of Daniel Jackson, big or little.

“Daniel?”

“I'm thinking of cutting down my off world time. I already talked to Sam, she understands.”

“O-kay.”

Jack prided himself on not pumping the air and yelling 'YES' at the top of his lungs. He had hoped for this. He probably would have prayed for this if he'd been a praying kinda guy. Jack wasn't kidding himself. As long as the Ori had been on their tails, he had needed Daniel out there. Badly. Carter and Teal'c, too, but most of all Daniel. Because Daniel had all the complicated background knowledge about the Ori and the Ancients. He spoke the language, he knew how they 'ticked', how their minds worked. He and the kid had worked hand in hand to crack the riddle that had been the Ori.

But now?

Now that the Ori had been put back into their box and things were beginning to calm down… Oh, yeah, Jack had hoped… but he'd rather bite his tongue than say anything because this wasn't his call. Only Daniel himself could make that decision just like only Jack had been the one to make that choice for himself after they had kicked Anubis and the replicators to kingdom come.

“I'm...” Daniel buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket and lowered his head. “In that Ori prison, after they tortured us… Methos came to see me.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. That little bit of detail hadn't been in his report. Daniel didn't need to hear it to know Jack was thinking it.

“I didn't put it in because it didn't make any difference. Which is exactly the point. He could have helped us. All it took was to tell me how to use the Ark correctly. But all he gave me were...”

“Hints and riddles?” Jack felt his jaw clench and his arm around Daniel tightened.

“I was ready to die. I've only been so close to my breaking point oncebefore, when you died in my timeline. But even then… No matter what… I've never been ready to give up and let it all go to hell. Especially not now that we're...”

Jack felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the Minnesota cold of winter. He knew Daniel had issues. He had suspected that, in a way, this Ori hell might have been just as bad as the Ba'al hell had been. He had been fully aware there had been things about this last Ori mission Daniel hadn't told him. And even before that last mission there had been a bone deep exhaustion and more of those invisible scars they all carried.

But there was more to this and Jack had tried to be patient and wait for Daniel to spill. Apparently now was that time.

“Enim lupin purnum pravus intus. Verily, the corrupted sinner will be cleansed from within.” Daniel recited darkly and Jack kept his mouth shut, waiting.

Daniel's body, so close to Jack's, shuddered slightly as he spoke up again. “The doci, that's the Chief Prior who...”

“I know.”

There was a hint of a smile in Daniel's voice for a brief moment. “Sometimes I forget you are actually reading our reports now.”

“What?” Jack couldn't resist and earned a pretty sharp bump to his ribs.

“The doci used his connection to all the priors' staffs through the crystal around his neck… He just stood there in my cell, chanting those words. He didn't even touch me or point a staff at me. His crystal alone carried enough energy to 'cleanse' me. It was like fire burning every cell in my body. Forget painsticks and hand ribbon devices, they are toys. This was like burning alive. And worse than that. Remember the light on that pleasure planet? Where we found Loran? Remember how it was when we weren't close to the device?”

“Sucked,” Jack bottom lined it.

Daniel actually laughed, a harsh mirthless sound. “Oh, yes. Sucked big time. Everything goes away… that's what the Doci did to me. Cleansing me of all my petty human feelings. Hope, faith… love… sucked it all out.”

 _Like a dementor,_ Jack thought with a shudder. He didn't say it. LD had read all the Potter books, he would have gotten the reference. Daniel hadn't.

“I wished they'd just left me alone to die. And then Methos showed up, dishing out his crap about how changes on the higher planes were slow, how they had to be careful… how 'I' had to try again, harder, to make the Ark work. He told me the Priors' staffs were all connected. We knew that already. He didn't give me the combination to for the crystals in the Ark, he just told me not to give up.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jack whispered.

“In a way he helped me after all. Maybe that's exactly what he intended to do. He gave me back one emotion. Anger. I was ready to strangle him with my bare hands if that had been possible, I was so furious. But it kept me going.” Daniel took a deep breath. “And then Teal'c showed up from somewhere.”

“Doci guy himself gave you the combination of the crystals when you opened the Ark.” Jack remembered that from the report.

“Yes. Seeing the truth about the Ori once the Ark opened shocked him into activating the crystals so that all the Priors got to 'see'.”

The sky had turned all purplish and red now, a firework of colors. Down on the ground the apple trees and the old picket fence drew bizarre shadows on the snow.

“You still feeling sucked out like a lemon?” Jack had started to try and piece this together since he'd read SG-1's reports. Carter had described the torture in a little more detail, but had mainly focused on the technical parts of the Prior's staff and how it functioned. She had been worked on by a Prior and her report, like Daniel's, had been clinical on that part. Professional. Of course, they both were pros on how to word their reports.

And on torture.

Doci guy had dealt with Daniel himself because Daniel had been the thorn in the Ori's eye ever since they had first met. And doci guy had tried to do more than just inflict pain, he had tried to re-program him.

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm tired. Tired of being shot at, tortured, run down. And yes, still sucked out. It's… getting better though. I think. It wears off like a bad drug, leaving my system. This numbness, it's fading away.”

 _But?_ Jack sensed a but there. He got it now, though; Daniel's raw demanding needs in bed. To be taken hard and fast. That had actually started back in the summer already as a coping technique, a counterbalance for all the unresolved anger the Ori had built up. But back then it had been about pressure release. Now it had turned into the desperate need to feel something, to drown out that numbness and replace it with lust and pain, to feel alive through getting the kick. Jack knew a thing or two about that.

“But I'm not willing to go there again,” Daniel said finally, his voice hard and unyielding. “I'm done. It might still be a lingering of what the doci did, but I'm taking it as an out. I'm done.”

“Don't stop going off world because you're feeling defeated,” Jack warned. “That's never a good reason.”

“No, not defeated.” Daniel turned to look at him. “But coming out of this one alive… not just this final mission, but all the close calls in the last two years… It's over Jack. The Ori are gone. And I want out before the next bad guy wants to take over the galaxy. I don't want to stop going off world all together, but I want the priorities of it to change. I loved being on a front line team, but if there's a slot open for something else I'll take it.”

Jack smiled ruefully. “If… when… the next bad guy wants to take over the galaxy you'll be the first one volunteering to go out there to face him. And I'll have your six.”

“I just want some peace and quiet in my… our life… for a while. That's not too much to ask for.”

“Nope.” Hell, Jack wanted that more than anything. “Hey, with some luck the next generation of 'let's save the world before lunch' heroes are ready to deal with that next bad guy by the time he… or she… shows up.”

“They already are. Your teams are the best of the best,” Daniel said.

“Teal'c's training programs are paying off,” Jack agreed, then gave Daniel a thoughtful look. “What do you think about joining younger teams on rotation to take them under your wing? And teaching more classes on base to prep them for First Contact missions?”

The SGC recruit training program had been running for almost three years now. Experienced teams supporting newcomers on drills and off world survival training. Little D had joined the 'training mission' team under Teal'c's command, last summer. They set up new off world training missions with all kinds of tricky situations and worst case scenarios.

“I'd like that,” Daniel said.

“I guess Carter could take any position she wants. But I'm selfish enough to hope she'll stay with us at least until the baby is here.”

“Yeah.” And after a heartbeat or two. “What? How do you... She said she hasn't told anyone...”

Jack snorted. “I'm glad she figured it out finally.”

“Wha… how… how did you…?”

“What? You didn't think the way she gobbles down red jello instead of blue lately was odd? Or that she either turned green and left the commissary early at lunch or – depending on what was on the menu – ate almost as much as Teal'c, didn't give you a clue?”

“Uh, no? I mean, yes, once or twice I noticed she looked sick. She said it was probably something she ate the night before.” Daniel did the slow blinking thing, batting his eyelashes. When Daniel had been very young Jack had made it a game to blindside him just because he loved the way Daniel looked when he was confused or stunned into silence – which didn't happen a lot.

“I mentioned going ice fishing to her once and she nearly tossed her cookies.”

“Ye-ah. She did that at the cabin too. Had a very strong reaction to fish.”

“Sara couldn't stand cheese and yogurt. She'd run for the bathroom at the mere mention of it.”

“I thought she was sleep deprived and still struggling with the whole Ori thing, too. I guess I was so focused on myself I didn't pay attention.”

“Hey, you're always focused on something. Don't sweat it. And I'm betting dollars to donuts Carter was too focused on whatever to notice it herself until very recently.”

Daniel chuckled as they turned their heads and kissed, cold lips, warm tongues. God, Jack wanted to take him inside for some serious body warmth-sharing. He put his other arm around Daniel, too, yanking him close.

“Not a good idea,” Daniel mumbled, but rubbed himself against Jack nevertheless.

“I know.” Jack's breath hitched in his throat and he quickly captured Daniel's mouth again. “'m gonna talk to the kid.” He pulled back with much regret. “Maybe I can coax him into taking Angus' room. If you're in the attic I can sneak up there later. Not so close to my parent's bedroom.”

Daniel licked his lips. “Sneaking up to your boyfriend's room in your parent's house. And they say romance is dead.”

Jack was in the mood to show Daniel how very much alive romance was when the faint but distinct sound of voices wafted over to them from somewhere.

Singing voices.

Daniel turned his head. “What...”

“Ahhh, this is a town that admires old traditions and rites,” Jack said. “The older folks are taking the kids caroling. I used to do that with my mom.”

Daniel chuckled. “I thought you don't sing.”

“I used to have quite the singing voice before puberty hit,” Jack bragged. “C'mon.” He patted Daniel's shoulder and then took lead across the roof back to the front from where they could see the road and the neighboring houses with their various Christmas illuminations.

The group of singers had gathered at the street corner under a street light. Four adults and five or six kids, wearing red Santa hats and scarves. In the fast fading light Jack could make out one big black guy who instantly reminded him of Teal'c gently playing an acoustic guitar and a girl shaking a tambourine.

It was a slow song, the music sort of melancholic but not depressing. Jack had never heard it before or if he had he couldn't remember.

“Stay close by My side… Keep your eyes on Me… Though this life is hard… I will give you perfect peace…”

“This is nice,” Daniel murmured.

A pleasant shiver ran down Jack's spine. He had never tagged himself as being overly romantic, but those lyrics gently floating on the slow melody felt like they were only for them, perfect for this moment in time.

“And you'll never walk alone… And you'll never be in need… Though I may not calm the storms round you… You can hide in Me...”

Jack brushed his lips against Daniel's, not caring in the least that someone might see them up here. No one knew him anymore around here. If they saw them kiss, so be it.

“Burdens that you bear… Offer no relief… Let Me bear your load… 'Cause I will give you perfect peace…”

“Sounds like a marriage vow to me.” Jack blinked, blindsided by his own words. Whoa.

“It's not meant as a...” Daniel trailed off and they fell silent.

“Stay close by My side… And you'll never walk alone… Keep your eyes on Me… And you'll never be in need… Though this life is hard…. Know that I will always give you perfect peace...”

“If we played truth or dare.” Jack cleared his throat. “Just… hypothetically...”

“If there was no DADT?” Daniel's gaze was fixed on the road, the lights and the singers. The song faded away with a final slow guitar tab.

“Would you…?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah? Sweet.”

“As long as we don't do all the hoop jumping like, you know, flower arrangements, church, party service, suits...”

“No hearts and white doves? No party themes and wedding planner?”

Daniel snorted, then cocked his head. “Would you be in your dress blues?”

“Would you wear the slave outfit Jacob gave you when you went undercover to the Snakehead Summit?”

“No slave outfit, sorry.”

Jack shrugged. “You won't have to wear anything. Well, a bandana maybe.”

“A bandana? Around my dick? You gonna wear dog tags around yours?” Daniel's laughter was deep and low, sending more pleasant shivers through Jack's body.

Daniel turned to look at him, his eyes as wide as Jack remembered them to be when Daniel had been so young and everything out there had been a new toy in his personal sandbox of the universe. “Jack? Did you just propose to me?”

“I… don't know. Did I?”

“I never contemplated getting married again,” Daniel said slowly.

“Face it, Daniel, we were doing the old married couple routine even before we got it together the first time.”

“We've practically been married for years,” Daniel added.

“Domestic delight, a dog, a kid, we're the average American family.” Rainbow family LD had labeled them once. Jack liked that. It didn't matter that they could never make it official. He had done the whole marriage vow and wedding thing once and in the end it hadn't worked out.

He wanted him and Daniel to work out. To last. A lifetime. They didn't need formalities. Their vows had been tied a long time ago by trial and error, through blood and torture, life and death, but also by trust, friendship and covering each others backs.

Daniel grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. One of those kisses that left them both breathless and head-spinning. When they pulled apart, Daniel whispered, “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

Down on the street they moved on to 'Joy to the world', the children's high pitched voices vibrant with life and energy, rejoicing.


	8. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**VIII**

They had sent LD inside to get Jack's parents for the light show. He figured it was an automatic behavior pattern to assign these kind of errands to kids. He grumbled about having to take off his boots before entering the house, but he didn't want to get in trouble for carrying snow and ice inside. Still it seemed a waste of time to take them off and put them on again in maybe about five minutes.

The kitchen was deserted, but it smelled heavenly, like turkey and cake and gravy and sweet potatoes. Daniel ventured on through the hallway and was about to barge into the living room, but was stopped by the raised voices coming from inside.

He snuck closer to the door and pressed his ear against it. He could only understand bits and pieces of what was spoken.

“...at least try not to ruin Christmas...”

“… not the one who called your son to come back...”

“He is your son, too! And if you keep behaving like this we might never see him again!” Jack had been right. Dot was a small woman with a lot of fire.

“Fine! I'll have dinner with them, but as far as I'm concerned this Christmas is already ruined,” Jon snapped.

“Oh, you are such a stubborn old geezer!”

Daniel had just decided to leave and tell the others he couldn't find them when he heard footsteps coming closer. Frozen in place he could only quickly raise his hand and knock sharply.

The footsteps halted. Then Dot's puzzled voice called to come in.

When Daniel opened the door he found her standing by the tree. Jon was poking at the smoldering fire, his back to Daniel. Flyboy was with them, sitting next to Jon and watching him.

“Oh, honey, you don't need to knock,” Dot greeted him cheerfully, but the slight tremble in her voice gave away her distress.

“I, uh… the door was closed and...” Daniel shuffled his feet.

“Where's the fire?” Jon muttered as he hung the poker on a hook by the mantle piece.

“Jack and, um, Dean and Daniel… and I… we wanted to show you something. Outside.”

Dot raised her small curved eyebrows. “What is it, sweetie?”

“It's a surprise,” Daniel said quickly. “You'll see when you get outside.”

Jon started shaking his head, but was quickly slapped on the arm by his wife. “Of course. We'll be right there, Daniel.”

He left quickly and found the guys gathered in front of the house. Dean was on the porch fiddling with the cords at the external plug sockets.

“They're coming,” Daniel announced, almost slipping down the last couple of steps from the deck.

“This should work now,” Dean called down to them. “One more rehearsal!” He plugged the cords in and Daniel caught himself crossing his fingers and holding his breath.

The house lit up, its front outlined in _a_ soft yellow and warm white glow. A cascade of tiny golden stars hung from the roof and strings of light decked the walls. The windows were framed in fireplace glowing reds and orange and the Queen Anne posts wrapped in emerald green.

Dean had hung lights on the ceiling of the porch roof, too, and down the banister of the stairs. Daniel loved how it sparkled and lit up the darkness. They had lights at their own house for Christmas, too, but it didn't look quite as magical. The fact that the O'Neill home was the only house on this side of the road made it appear more spectacular.

Jack's brother pulled the plug not a moment too early. Dot and Jon came out, closing their coats and adjusting their hats. Daniel saw Jon take Dot's arm, making sure she didn't slip on her way down the stairs. It was a tender caring gesture very opposed to his grumpy attitude.

“Close your eyes,” Daniel instructed Jack's mom and she complied readily while Jon muttered, “Are we supposed to do a drum roll?”

“Ready!” Jack called over to Dean who plugged the lights back in.

 _It looks like a castle this way._ Suddenly LD thoughtof Tara, wondering if she would have loved the lights and if her parents put lights on her house, too? What was she doing right now? Was she in some kind of Christmas mood at all? He couldn't imagine her not loving the lights. She was a very spiritual girl, she sort of believed in magic. In a way she looked a little bit like an elf with all that wild hair and… That bittersweet feeling was back and he realized with some bewilderment that he probably, maybe, possibly… missed her?

“Open your eyes, mom,” Jack said, sounding suspiciously smug and excited.

The moment of stunned silence brought Daniel back into the here and now. He glanced at Jack's parents and found his mom standing there with her hands clasped over her mouth, just staring at the lights. Then she moved like a mini tornado and hugged BD. Before LD had a chance to run for it or give in to the ridiculous urge to hide behind Jack like a five year old he was next. And when she embraced him and pressed a kiss to his cheek he didn't think it was that bad. He hugged her back and said, “Merry Christmas, Dot.”

“And to you, Daniel. Welcome to the family.”

Dean who had come down from the porch by now was next and finally it was Jack's turn. Daniel thought she was squeezing the long lost son just a little bit longer and tighter than the rest of them and when Jack engulfed her in his arms and lifted her off her feet for a moment she let out a sound somewhere between laughter and sobbing.

“My lights,” she finally breathed when Jack released her. “Oh, you boys! Oh, how I have missed my lights!”

“You missed the porch banister,” Jon said gruffly. “If you want to do a job, at least do it right.”

“Jonathan O'Neill!” Dorothy snapped.

“We used all the lights we could find, there were no more,” Dean said calmly, placing a hand on his mother's arm.

“Excuses! It looks like crap. You don't need more lights if you do it the right way.”

“Hey!” Jack pushed himself in front of his mom and Dean. “We all know this isn't about the lights or how we did it 'the wrong way'. Stop throwing everyone under the bus. Put your anger where it belongs. I'm here, c'mon, give it to me!”

“And what makes you think everything is about you?” Jon spat, turned around and rushed off towards the hangar.

Jack started after him, but his mom caught him by the sleeve of his jacket. “Leave him be, Jack.”

“Mom...”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “He… he always used to hang the lights for me. I made him promise not to climb those ladders or the roof anymore a couple years ago. He kept that promise… for the most part… and we stopped having outside lights. He's just frustrated it wasn't him who hung the lights. It used to be his thing. He didn't even allow Dean to do it for him.” She pulled her coat more tightly around her small body. “Getting old is a bitch.”

Dean cleared his throat. “We should get dinner started.”

Dot nodded. “Of course, it's getting late. Don't mind your dad, he'll be there.”

Daniel glanced at Jack who's body language showed how tense he was, how angry.

 _Oh joy_ , he thought, _this is_ _gonna be one fun Christmas dinner. Not._

* * *

Daniel closed the last button on his burgundy loose fitting shirt, leaving the top button open. He tried to smooth out the slightly wrinkled cotton, but unless he asked Dot for an iron he had to live with being a bit disorderly. He shrugged. It wasn't a diplomatic meeting, no dress code had been established and it wasn't that bad anyway. To underline the casual look he opened one more button, showing off the collar of his black t-shirt. He hadn't packed for elegant anyway.

God, this was a family Christmas dinner not a meeting with the president of the USA or the leader of some alien nation.

Why was he so nervous?

There was a slight knock at the attic door and a moment later Little D slipped in. He had moved his bags down into Angus' room without batting an eyelid earlier and hadn't emerged from it for the last hour or so.

Now he slouched on one of the leather chairs, swinging his legs over the armrest. “Jack's brother has a ton of cool books in his room.”

“Yeah, I saw. Thanks for moving, by the way.”

LD smirked, but sobered quickly. “I don't want to go to dinner. Jack's dad is gonna be there and I have a feeling it's gonna be very...”

“Uncomfortable.”

LD hung his head. “We shouldn't have come, Daniel. Jack is right, it was a bad idea. And we are not making things easier for him. Or anyone else.”

Daniel closed the buttons on his sleeves, then changed his mind and rolled them up instead. “We are here to have Jack's back. And I think he appreciates it more than he wants to admit. We got invited to eat with them, so that's what we do.” After a pause he muttered, “Not that I'm very keen on going down there...”

“I'm not sure I can keep my mouth shut if Jack's dad keeps treating everyone like crap,” LD said darkly. “And then I'll make things even worse.”

“Want me to kick you under the table if your temper gets the better of you?”

“Har har, very funny. I know the smartest thing to do is to try and behave and stay out of the war zone. But how is that having Jack's back if we just sit there and watch the drama unfold?” LD looked stressed and Daniel didn't feel particularly relaxed himself.

“CDT,” he said. “Remember that?”

LD rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, but…”

“I know this isn't the same as diplomatic missions, but if you feel like you're losing control you could revert to core diplomatic training just to get back on solid ground.”

“Remember how Jack put the Amrans into time out in one of our VIP quarters and kept them locked in until they were ready to play nicely again?”

“Ye-ah. That's not exactly CDT level. I know diplomatic strategies don't always work. And...” Daniel slumped down on the second chair. “Ah, hell, screw CDT. Just try to be reasonable, okay?”

“But what if I can't?”

“I'll kick you.”

“Okay. If you can't stay reasonable, I'll kick you, too.”

Daniel grimaced. “Deal. If Jack can't stay reasonable we'll gang-kick him.”

At least it made the kid laugh.

“What's the joke?” Jack, dressed in a dark blue sweater and faded jeans, slammed the door and leaned against it. “I'm telling ya, I'm this close to checking outta here. If it wasn't for my mom we'd be gone by now.”

“I think you need to confront him, but calmly. Not the way you just did,” Daniel said. “If the two of you keep staying out of each other's way or attacking each other, you'll never sort this out.”

“I tried confronting him twice now. He wouldn't budge.”

“Try again?”

“I should pour Fireball into his eggnog,” Jack growled.

“Wait til after dinner. Food mellows people. Then, bring him a beer or whatever he likes, make sure he's relaxed and then start a gentle conversation,” LD advised.

Jack's eyes narrowed. “You have good experience using that tactic, buddy?”

“I'm just trying to help.”

“LD is right, though. You need to sit him down and talk. I know it's hard. But I don't think he'll come to you. And yelling at him only makes it worse,” Daniel cut into the banter.

“I know that.” Jack scowled at no one in particular and pushed off the door. “Let's go, be merry.”

The living room had an adjoining dining area with large french doors leading out onto another porch that wasn't screened in like the one on the front. It was dark outside now, but there was a porch light hanging on the wall by the doors and its light illuminated the deck and several pieces of tarp covered deck furniture.

Dot closed the heavy bordeaux curtains as they all gathered in the dining room, looking at the festively decked dinner table. Daniel glanced at his little self and smothered a grin at the way LD looked around and admired the effort Dot had put into decorations. At least one of them seemed to have a mood lift here.

Even Daniel couldn't help but marvel a bit. Everything from the tablecloth to the good china and the chandelier, the napkins and flower bouquet appeared to be tone on tone of warm rich reds and old gold. The crystal wine and water glasses sparkled in the gently flickering candlelight and the plates with their filigree patterns of painted snowflakes probably had been in the family's possession for a very long time, handed down from mothers to daughters.

Dot, who had changed into a cream colored flowing cardigan sweater over a white blouse with a subtle floral pattern and dark red velvet pants, clapped her hands. “There you are! Sit down, please! Dean is on his way to bring in the soup!”

Jon O'Neil stood by the fireplace with his back to them, but even he had dressed up in a white shirt and a woolen vest in the same color as his wife's cardigan. When he turned around Daniel also noticed old fashioned cufflinks in the form of golden crowheads. He wondered if they were old family jewelry.

He hadn't seen Jack's dad without his thick winter jacket and cap before now and was floored by how much alike father and son actually looked. The same dark brown eyes, the same facial features. Even their facial expressions were similar at the moment. Both barely hiding a scowl and a twitch of their jaws showed how uncomfortable they both were.

Jon raised a glass of what Daniel assumed to be whiskey. Amber liquid poured over ice cubes. “Let the games begin.”

LD murmured something about going to help Dean with the food and quickly slipped out of the room.

“Here we go,” Jack muttered under his breath, but made an about face when his mom gave him a stern look. “This looks excellent, mom.”

“Thank you, hon.” Smiling, she turned to her husband, “How about some music, Jon?”

“Sure, why not,” came the grumbled reply. Moments later the room was filled with gentle instrumental Christmas songs in classic style, starting with 'It's the most wonderful time of the year'.

Jack and Daniel sat down side by side while Dot and Jon took the cushioned chairs across from them.

It was going to be a long dinner.

Before the silence at the table became too loud the door burst open and Dean rushed in, followed by LD, carrying bowls of pumpkin soup. Daniel couldn't help but take a lingering closer look at Dean's gray Byron-style poet shirt. The collar was open at the front and laced up with cord through silver eyelets. The outfit was completed by tight fitting black leather pants and studded ankle boots. His hair, not tamed by a leather band anymore, was tucked behind his ears and fell openly on his shoulders and back, framing his face.

Holy buckets.

Jack elbowed him. Hard.

Daniel grinned and lowered his eyes to the bowl of soup put in front him with a flourish. Jack's brother was also wearing a silver ring on his index finger. The pattern was vaguely familiar.

LD served Jack's parents and left again for the last two bowls.

Dean sat down at Jack's other side.

“Nice shirt,” Jack drawled, raising one eyebrow.

Dean chuckled. “It was part of my costume for a steam punk convention.”

“What?”

“It's a sub genre of science fiction, sorta incorporating technology and aesthetic designs inspired by 19th century industrial steam powered machinery. An alternate history if you like,” Dean elaborated lightly.

Jack's head swiveled around to Daniel. “Did you get any of that?”

“It's science fiction.”

“Ah.”

LD returned and chose the free chair next to Daniel. “I know the ring. It's The One Ring.”

“One ring to rule them all,” Dean recited darkly, then laughed.

“I read all the Tolkien books last year,” LD said.

Dot leaned forward to have a closer look at her son's ring. “Did you make it yourself?” To the table at large she said, “Dean has always been the most creative of my sons. He creates his own jewelry and he's also a graphic artist.”

“No, I bought it. My own creations are not nearly this detailed or smooth. I'm still learning how to do metal work.”

Jon cleared his throat and Daniel wondered if they had to say grace. He knew Jack's family was Catholic, but he had no idea how highly religion was valued in this house. But Jon just raised his glass and said, “Let's eat before it gets cold.”

The clattering of their spoons in the bowls was the only sound for a while as they ate their soup. Daniel wasn't a big fan of pumpkin soup, but it tasted well enough and Dot seemed genuinely happy when he told her so.

The conversation evolved around Dean's drawings for a while. LD seemed to be intrigued by this subject; he asked several questions which Dean apparently answered with great joy. He worked with pencils and sharpies in a sketchbook, but had learned to use the latest software for graphic design, too. The Daniels had taken art classes in college for archeology field drawing and LD sometimes still sketched artifacts they studied. He said it gave him a better understanding of the object, a better feel for it.

When the kid mentioned he had once drawn the floor plan of Khufu's pyramid in Egypt – he said it had been for a home school art project but they both knew he had done it for their mom's birthday – Dot was delighted and shared with them the many exotic places the absent Angus kept sending her postcards from.

The turkey was next, served with sweet potato casserole, cranberries and gravy. While they all savored the food and swapped cooking techniques Daniel felt himself slowly relax. Maybe LD was right and food did mellow people. Jon O'Neill wasn't exactly a well of conversation, but he seemed to enjoy the meal and let them all know that in his humble opinion no one could ever make a more delicious turkey than his Dot. “Not even Dean, and he's an excellent cook,” the old man said with a wink.

Dean grinned and raised his glass of red wine. “To mom's world's best turkey!”

“Oh, you guys,” she chuckled. “You just want to cajole extra dessert out of me.”

“So… Daniel, what is it you do for the military?” Jon asked at one point and all the O'Neill's eyes turned on him.

“I'm a civilian consultant. You could say my position is that of an adviser.”

“Your nephew said you're an archeologist. Why does the military need an archeologist?”

“Several reasons. There's a saying that goes; ‘A Nation Stays Alive When Its Culture Stays Alive’. It's essential to educate military personnel to prevent inadvertent damage to museums, works of art, archaeological sites, sacred places and other forms of cultural property. “

“So you basically tell them to destroy anything but cultural heritage?” Jon addressed Daniel, but his dark eyes were set on Jack.

 _He's trying to provoke him,_ Daniel thought annoyed. What the hell was wrong with that guy?

Jack, however, kept eating and presented himself totally relaxed on the outside.

“Archeologists aren't in the position to 'tell' the military what to destroy. But their word weighs a lot when it comes to no strike listings,” Daniel said, a tad coolly.

“How did you get to know each other? In Iraq?” Dot started stacking their empty plates and flatware.

“Yep. Iraq,” Jack said lightly. “But we can't give you any details. Most of it is classified, sorry.”

“Oh, of course.” Jack's mother gave them a forced smile. “I didn't mean to pry.”

“No problem, mom.” Jack handed her his plate.

“Had to be hard on Sara. Never knowing where you were, always afraid they'd bring you home to her in a box,” Jon said.

Jack held his father's gaze. “She knew what she was getting into. Her whole family was military as you know. She was tough, she could handle it.”

“Yeah. Your mother on the other hand wasn't quite so used to it.”

“Jon!” Dot shoved the stacked plates over to him. “Take these to the kitchen, please!”

“I'm merely stating a fact here. Do you think it was easy to see you sick with worry when Sara and Charlie were here without him because he was off playing war somewhere?” Jon straightened and looked Jack square in the eyes. “You have to make up for a lot more than you'll ever be able to, Jonathan.”

It was LD who jumped from his chair, grabbed the stacked plates and fled, his mouth pressed into a thin white line, his cheeks flushed and his eyes ablaze with rage.

Daniel couldn't blame him.

But Jack shook his head. “It's okay, mom. He's right.” He picked up his napkin and absently fiddled with it. “As I already told dad, I won't apologize for the choices I made for my life because right now I am exactly where I wanna be. But as I told him, too, I'm sorry for any grief I've caused you by making those choices.”

“Oh, Jonny, don't...”

“I can't change the rules my job binds me too. I didn't make those rules, but I have to abide by them.” With a quick glance at Daniel he added, “Most of them anyway.” Then he gave his mother a small smile. “I can tell you this, though. I'm no longer on field duty. I'm flying a desk these days and I guess that's as safe as it can get.”

“Well, congratulations for doing the right thing for once.”Jon took another sip of his whiskey. “It's the least you could do if you're calling yourself a father again.” His dark gaze turned to Daniel. “And you? Why didn't you fight for your nephew when you came back from wherever you'd been missing? He's your flesh and blood after all.”

Daniel blinked. “What? He… Daniel had already been living with Jack for over a year. Jack gave him a home and all the stability he needed after his parents died. Why would I want to take that away from them?”

“Because he should be your responsibility, not Jack's.”

“Dad, stop it,” Dean said sharply.

“I won't be told to shut up by my own son,” Jon snapped. “Jack isn't fit to raise a child. He killed his own son and no,” he pointed at Jack across the table, “you do not deserve second chances. Charlie won't get a second chance at life, why should you get one?”

Jack rose from his chair, Daniel with him. It was what he did. Having Jack's back, always. Standing by the man he would follow into the deepest darkest hell without a shred of doubt.

“Leave my...” And then Jack's hand reached for his and Daniel clasped it and felt long strong fingers close around his, squeezing, holding on, anchoring. “Leave our kid out of this,” Jack said, his voice dangerously low and calm.

Little D stood frozen in the open doorway, jaw dropped. Maybe he had just returned from the kitchen or maybe he'd been standing there and heard everything Jon had said, Daniel didn't know.

Dorothy pressed a hand over her heart and Daniel thought her eyes were going to pop out. Suddenly he felt a flutter of panic. What if Jack's mother had a heart attack? What if his dad did. He opened his mouth to talk. Talking was his thing, his business.

“I don't think you have the right to judge Jack,” he started, his own voice sounding foreign to him. His diplomat voice, but with an edge to it. Jack's hand around his gave him the strength not to reach across the table and throttle the old man. “I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. We all know what it feels like, what a bottomless pit it is, how unforgiving because nothing will ever make that loss undone or bring them back. Jack has paid for Charlie's death, over and over again.”

“Daniel...” Jack started tersely, but Daniel ignored him and continued.

“And you can't judge him because you don't know him. Can't know him. You closed the door on him ten years ago. You have no idea who he is, what he's done, where he's been. I do. Because I've been with him for most of it. And I can tell you, if anyone deserves a second chance, it's him.” He took a deep breath, relieved when he felt his heartbeat go back to normal. “And so do you. Give yourself that second chance. Jack's been trying to reach out to you...”

“Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm done reaching out,” Jack interrupted harshly.

Daniel directed his glare at his partner. “And YOU know very well what's it like to be tangled up in your own anger and denial and how hard it is to get out of that web.”

Jon put his whiskey glass down. Daniel noticed the tremble of his hand, but otherwise the man was apparently able to play stoic as well as his son. He turned around and was faced with LD still standing in the doorway. Clearing his throat he muttered, “I'm sorry you had to hear that, kid.”

“Dad, if you walk away from this now, that's it. I'm outta here,” Jack snapped.

Jon paused, his back straight and his head high, and then walked past the kid and closed the living room door with a loud 'thud'.

Dorothy sank onto a chair, grabbed Jon's whiskey glass and emptied it with one long gulp. “Good lord,” she finally said, “And I always thought it was Dean who had an eye for men.”

“I was married,” Dean said, frowning.

“So was I.” Jack shrugged.

“Well, there's that. But... I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” Dot asked, apparently momentarily distracted from everything else by that new information. “Why didn't you invite her?”

“She's a gogo dancer. She works at nights.” Dean poked at a piece of turkey with his fork, then let it go and looked around the table. “Dessert anyone?”

Daniel felt the insane urge to laugh.

* * *

“I need another drink,” Dorothy said.

LD spotted the bottle on the mantelpiece of the fireplace and went to get it. He just didn't know what else to do. It was like being on stage of a drama comedy, not knowing how you got there. The sight of Jack and BD standing at the table, holding hands as if they were to receive a wedding blessing had almost made him giggle. So did Jack's brother's revelation about his girlfriend's job.

Everything else… oh man.

He put the bottle on the table, opened it and poured Jack's mom a small amount of the amber liquid.

“Thank you, hon.” She sipped it, pulled a face and put it down again, then addressed her son. “Jack...”

Jack winced. “Mom, I'm...”

“Don't apologize.” She smiled. “All my children have followed their heart's desire and made the very best of it. I could not be more proud. Just tell me one thing. You are taking great risks. The Air Force was all you ever wanted to do for a living. Dean told me you're a general now. I understand if you ever get caught the price will be very high.”

“Not too high,” Jack said quietly. “Not when it comes to Daniel.”

“But they could arrest you, throw you in jail, no?” She wrapped both hands around the whiskey glass.

“We're very careful,” BD assured her.

“How careful is careful enough?” Dorothy asked. “Secrets have a way of getting out and backfiring when you least expect it.”

Daniel thought it was about time to step in here. “They saved the world. Several times over. They can get away with everything.” He returned Jack's glare with a shrug. He was a kid. He could get away with saying stuff like that. Exaggerate a little, be a bit over the top. And he thought Jack's mother deserved to know at least a hint of the truth about her son.

Dot gave him a lenient smile.

“You should see all the medals hanging in his office. Purple hearts, silver stars, bronze stars,” LD continued. “He's a true hero.”

“ _Daniel_ ,” Jack said tightly, “why don't you go and find the dog before he gets himself into any kind of _trouble_.”

Daniel bit his lip and refused to be stared down. _Trust me_ , he tried to signal with a stare of his own. He patted Dot's arm. “I'm just saying that you don't have to worry.”

She turned to Jack. “Is that true?”

BD cleared his throat. “Jack has… done things for this country...”

“We have,” Jack interrupted.

“Fine. We have a certain… not immunity, not really, but some people in high places owe us.”

“Big time,” Jack added, sounding smug now.

“What we're trying to say is that should they ever press charges against Jack, I doubt he's going to be arrested. Retired, for sure. Dishonorably discharged, maybe, but not going to jail.”

“So, you did save the world?” Dean waggled his eyebrows and raised his glass in a silent toast. “Did you wear capes and tights?”

“I'd tell ya but then I'd have to shoot ya,” Jack grumbled.

Dot waved it off. “All I needed to know is that I won't have to be afraid that you'll end up in jail and your new family will be torn apart again because of a law that makes no sense to me. I promise to ask no more questions.”

Daniel saw the look of relief on Jack's face. He had never felt this bad about their cover stories. Having to lie or presenting half-truth to random people was one thing, but having to do it to your own parents had to be hard. Even if you weren't particularly close to them, or not anymore.

He decided to add one more detail. Leaning into Dorothy a little he stage-whispered, “They can't tell me either, but they're the good guys. And what I said about those medals, it's all true. I saw them myself. And Jack… he's friends with the president.”

Dot's eyes widened. “He is?” She turned to Jack. “You are?”

Jack coughed. “We've… met.”

Daniel smiled and patted her shoulder. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

He was grabbed in a tight hug. “You are a good guy, too, Danny,” Dot whispered in his ear.

A little embarrassed he pulled back when she released him. His parents had called him Danny. No one but Jack had ever been allowed to call him 'Danny' on occasions. Everyone else had always been told off sharply. To his own surprise Daniel felt oddly touched now that Jack's mom used that old nickname.

“I'll find the dog,” he murmured as he felt the heat creep into his cheeks.

Flyboy wasn't in the kitchen and not in the hallway. Daniel reluctantly opened another door in the back of the house to find a storage or laundry room. No dog. The next door he opened revealed a small chamber with a huge old sewing machine and baskets filled with various fabrics and balls of wool. Apparently Dot liked to knit and sew. There was an Ikea shelf overloaded with crafting materials. Papers, bottles of paint, boxes labeled 'Glass', 'Pearls*, 'Clay' and more. On a small desk Daniel spotted a computer and printer, both items oddly out of place in this room which was lovingly dedicated to textile work and crafts.

He closed that door, too, and went upstairs, calling for his dog. A single 'woof' answered him, coming from Jack's room.

“Oh dear, has someone accidentally locked you in here? I hope you didn't destroy any...” He stopped in the open doorway. “Oh. I…”

Jack's dad looked up from where he was sitting on the bed holding a baseball glove in both hands, caressing the worn leather. Flyboy, who had been lying at Jon's feet, rose and came to greet Daniel with a happy yip, pushing his nose against the boy's hand.

“I haven't been in here in ten years,” Jon said softly. “Not once.”

Daniel reached for the door knob. “I didn't want to interrupt...”

“What do you know about Charlie?” Jon asked, his eyes not leaving the glove.

Reluctantly Daniel stepped into the room. “He loved baseball, Jack coached his team for a while. He loved ice skating and riding his bike. He and Jack built fighter jet models together.” Daniel tried to remember anything else Jack had told him or mentioned throughout the years. “He had a train set. I play with that now. And he loved to go sledding.” He shut the door and, one hand settled on Flyboy's head for moral support, closed the distance to Jack's dad. “Charlie did lots of things I don't. At first I thought Jack might be disappointed because we're so different, Charlie and I.”

“Was he?”

“No. I'm not like Charlie and Jack is not like my real dad.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that. Losing your parents. Both of them.” Jon finally looked at him, his eyes so familiarly haunted and agonized. These were Jack's eyes from when they had first been to Abydos together. Daniel had been so mad at Jon downstairs when he attacked Jack, but now he was just sad for Charlie's granddad.

“Jack… saved me.” The words came haltingly. Again he had to be careful about what to say, how much he could reveal. “He kept me sane when I thought I was going to lose it. When everything, my whole world, shattered and fell to pieces around me. Jack picked up the pieces, over and over again.”

“Maybe you saved each other,” Jon mused. “Jack was in a bad place when we last saw each other. But then, so was I.” After a pause he added. “I still am. I thought… I was better. Life went on. We had good times, Dot and I. But seeing Jack again...” He shook his head. “You shouldn't have to listen to this, kiddo.”

Daniel sat down cross legged on the floor, pulling the dog down to lie with him. “I'm good at listening.”

Jon stared at him, then something like a smile appeared on his face. “Thanks, Daniel, but I don't think you wanna hear this.” But neither of them moved from the spot and Jon's fingers kept stroking the rough leather in his hands.

“Your uncle was right. I closed the door on Jack back then because… because we were both saying ugly things to each other. I'm his father. I shoulda tried to… I don't know…help. Instead I blamed him. I still do. I can't help it. Whenever I see him, I...”

“Blaming him is easier,” Daniel said. “I never had anyone to blame for what happened to my parents. I wished I had, but there was no one, it was a freak accident.” He'd been so angry. And there had been no vent for his anger back then. There had only been that feeling of being helpless.

Jon shook his head. “How do you...”

“One day at a time.” Daniel's arms wrapped around Flyboy's large neck. “I want them… my parents… to be proud of me. I'd like to think they know…” He recalled what it had been like when he'd been so young the first time around, how he had tried to imagine they were able to see him, to still watch over him somehow.

“Charlie is gone. There's nothing left of him,” Jon whispered brokenly.

“No.” Daniel suddenly remembered what the crystal being had told Jack in that hospital corridor when it had morphed into Charlie. What it had done. Daniel had been there and witnessed how yet another piece of Jack's broken heart had been mended by that gesture.

He let go of the dog and stood. Carefully, afraid Jack's dad would reel back or push him away, he reached out and put a hand on the old man's chest, placed it over his heart. “Charlie is here. And he'll always be. But you have to let go of all the... bad feelings… and then you can remember all the good things about him.”

When Jon just looked at him weirdly, Daniel stepped back and added quickly. “My shr… therapist said that. And Jack knows that, too. That's why he's better now.”

He knew he had screwed up here. No kid his age would probably have said the things he had just said. He had tried to tone it down, but he had a lot more first hand experience with kids 'his age' now and none of them talked like this.

Jack's dad probably thought he was an annoying know-it-all kid, precocious maybe.

“If Charlie was still around somehow, if he knew what was going on around here he'd be ashamed of his grandfather,” Jon ground out.

“Well, you said some pretty nasty things down there.” The words slipped out before he could hold back. He bit his lip.

Jon glared at him, but when Daniel refused to back down – he had too much experience with glares like this and they only worked on him when he knew he deserved them – the flinty glint faded away and Jon sighed. “I did, eh? I'm good at that, yanno, offending people.”

“You passed that forward to Jack.”

Jon snorted. “At least something we still have in common then, he and I.” He put the baseball glove down, came to his feet and walked over to the gallery of pictures. “I'd like to be alone for a moment, kiddo.” He picked up one of the photos. “You could leave the dog here if you don't mind though.”

Daniel rubbed a hand over Flyboy's back. “Sure. He really seems to like you. That's a good thing.” He whispered to the dog to stay put and left.


	9. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**IX**

“I don't know why, but it calms me,” Dorothy said with a sad smile, her soapy hands fishing around in the dishwater until they got hold of something to scrub.

“It's okay, I don't mind.” BD picked up a plate and dried it.

“Someone should probably look after Jon,” she mused, “but I am not ready for that, yet.”

“Sometimes it's better to leave them stew for a while,” Daniel agreed.

“When I called Jack to come home I was sure things would work out finally. Enough time had passed and Jon had mellowed somewhat over the years. Apparently I was wrong.” She placed a bowl on the counter and Daniel took it.

“Seeing Jack probably opened those wounds again.”

“Things have always been difficult between them.” She worked on another plate with a sponge now, doggedly scrubbing them clean. “Jonny… Jack was the only one of our sons who inherited the love for anything aviation. Jon had high hopes for him despite their struggles.”

“He wanted Jack to take over the business,” Daniel concluded.

“Yes, because Jack had it in him. But he chose to join the Air Force instead and Jon never got over it, could never really forgive him for that.” She attacked another plate and Daniel feared it might break under the onslaught. “So stubborn, both of them. Sometimes I wanted to grab them and smack their heads together. Jon made many mistakes as a father, but Jack probably never made it easy for him either. They were so much alike.”

Daniel gazed out the large kitchen window into the snow. If not for the ongoing conflicts in this house it was very peaceful. Quiet. As if they had stepped out of the hamster wheel that was their crazy life and taken a time out. Exactly what they had wanted to do. He tried to imagine Jack living here, working in that hangar over there, flying people and cargo from A to B. Would he have married, have a house close to his parents, raised kids and expect them to continue 'O'Neill Air and Cargo'?

Would he have been happy?

And if Jack had stayed here, who would have gone to Abydos with Daniel? Would there have been an Abydos mission at all?

“I think Jack had to follow his calling,” Dot interrupted his thoughts. “Whether we liked it or not is irrelevant.”

“I think you are right,” Daniel said and yet he still felt a little sorry for them. He had no doubt Jon had told the truth when he said it had been hard to fear that Jack might not come home one day. _No family should be put through that kind of fear and the not-knowing where their loved ones are,_ he thought with a flare of irritation while at the same time he was well aware it had to be this way.

“When Charlie died, Jon not only put the blame on Jack, but he was also convinced that if Jack hadn't joined the Air Force he wouldn't have had owned that gun in the first place. And it all came down to Jack being military again.”

“Do people not have guns out here?” Daniel had assumed most of them did. To hunt, to be able to defend large properties in a community where some houses were far-flung from each other.

Dot threw up her hands, causing the dishwater to splatter on the already dried dishes. “Of course they do! But my husband was still convinced the accident only happened because Jack had joined the damn Air Force! He's as stubborn as they come, Daniel. Sometimes he's worse than the boys ever were.”

Daniel grinned. “I know what you mean.”

“Could you convince Jack to try and talk to his father again?” Dot asked. “I have a feeling he will listen to you more willingly.”

He winced. “I would try if I thought there was a point, Dot. But your husband attacked Jack in a way… I can't really blame Jack for being angry. Or for wanting to leave first thing in the morning.”

“If he leaves now I might have lost my son forever.”

“No. I'm going to make sure he stays in touch with you this time.”

Dot wiped at her eyes with her elbow because her hands were still dripping wet. “Do not think Jon doesn't love his son, Daniel. He is his own worst enemy in all this. If only he could find it in him...”

Daniel put down his tea towel and wrapped the small woman in his arms. “I know, I know.”

The kitchen door flung open and LD barged in. “Do you know where Jack is? I… Oh.”

“He wanted to take a walk, clear his head I guess,” Daniel said. Dot struggled to compose herself, but he just held on and stroked her back. Who knew how long she had gone without a hug or without being able to shed these tears with someone there to comfort her. Daniel wasn't a hugger, that was usually Jack's thing, but he felt her soaking up the embrace like a sponge and so he didn't move.

LD nodded and slipped out again.

* * *

The old porch stair railing felt good and sturdy, against Jack's back. He looked down at the piece of wood in his hand. Red Cedar. He'd taken it from the pile of kindling by the firewood in the kitchen. Cedar was great for starting a fire.

It was also great for whittling.

He had removed the bark and was working on a general shape, making long sweeping cuts, going with the grain of the wood. It had been a while since he'd last done this, but it came back to him like riding a bike.

As the wood shavings fell into the snow, gray and pale in the light of the porch lamp, his anger fell with them, away from him, leaving him tired and old. There was guilt for failing his mother. He had tried though.

_Maybe you didn't try hard enough._

Jon had balked at any attempt to solve this.

_Maybe there isn't anything to solve. Face it. You're both bad at this kind of thing._

But Jack had liked to think he'd gotten better at handling… feelings.

_Why would you be in any way better than him? The apple doesn't fall far…_

And maybe, just maybe, his father's resentment was the price Jack had to keep paying for Charlie. Maybe it was only fair. He had everything he had never thought of being allowed to have again. Maybe this was the one thing meant to remind him that despite everything he still carried that burden, would always carry it, even though it had become easier.

He could live with that.

Question was if his mother could. His dad had chosen things to be as they were now…

“Jack!”

Looking up from his whittling he watched his son skip down the back stairs, closing his jacket and then pulling his scarf into place.

“Hey, Little D, what's up?”

Frowning, Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. “You know, I'm getting too old… and too big... to be called 'Little'.”

Jack cocked his head, giving Daniel an accessing look. “Nah, not yet.”

“I'm just saying we should come up with something other than Little D or LD.”

“Not-so-big-yet D?”

Daniel snorted. “You can do better than that.”

“Okay, I'll think of something, Space monkey.” Jack smirked at the old nick name generating a pout and an eye roll.

“What are you doing?” Daniel pointed at the wood and knife in Jack's hand. “I mean, I know what you're doing, but what's it gonna be when it's finished?”

“Something for my mom's Christmas tree, I guess.” Jack held it up. “A dog? A plane? Thor?”

Daniel's eyes lit up. “I want to make something for the tree, too! I saw where you mom stores all her crafting stuff. Do you think she'd mind if I take some of that?”

“I think she'd love that.” Jack nodded in the general direction of the french doors. “So, how's the overall mood in there?”

“BD is with your mom.” He lowered his eyes for a moment. “She's… upset, but I think Daniel has it covered.”

“Listen, Daniel… I appreciate what you were doing back there for my mom, giving her some intel to let her know we'll be okay.”

“You seemed a bit tense though. Did you really think I'd spill any classified stuff?”

“You were walking a fine line there, buddy… but no. I guess the whole...”

“Coming out to your parents was a bit...”

“Yeah. That.”

“Your dad… he's in your room. With Charlie's things.”

“Did you talk to him, Daniel?” He heard that edge creep into his voice. He knew his kid and his inability to leave things well alone. If Jon had lashed out at Daniel for trying to help...

“I tried.”

Jack gave Daniel a sharp look. “Did he snap at you? Threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that. Jack, he's just hurt. He knows what he did… what he said was wrong. Maybe, if you just go to him one more time...”

Jack lowered his piece of wood and squinted up at the house again. “Maybe I won't have to.”

Daniel looked at him. “What?”

He reached out, seized Daniel's shoulder and gently turned him around.

“Oh,” Daniel said softly.

Flyboy came ambling down the stairs while Jon O'Neill stood in the open door, hands stuffed in the pockets of his warm jacket. “Dean said I'd find ya here.”

“You found me.”

Slowly, with heavy steps, Jon descended the stairs. “Walk with me?”

“Why? You said everything you wanted to say at dinner.” Jack felt Daniel's elbow connect with his ribs, but he didn't budge. Not until he had an idea about where this conversation was heading.

Jon pulled a pack of Marlboros from his jacket, opened it and retrieved a cigarette. “Give an old man some slack. All I'm asking for is a couple minutes of your time.” He lit the cig and took a deep pull. “Just the length of my smoke.”

“Jack,” Daniel hissed.

Jack took a moment to consider, then gave LD a pat on the back. “Go inside and let 'em know where we are so they won't start worrying.”

“Don't screw this up,” LD muttered.

They looked on as the boy trudged back into the house.

“Got yer hands full with that one, eh?” Jon asked on a chuckle.

 _You have no idea._ “Yep. Never a dull moment.”

“Kid's carrying a big torch for you though. Said you saved him.”

“He can get a bit melodramatic,” Jack brushed it off.

“Doesn't matter. It's how it feels to him that counts. I saw how his eyes lit up when he said that about you.” Jon took another draw from his Marlboro. “You always looked like that when you talked about your grandpa. Nothing could ever get between the two of you.”

“He was a great grandfather,” Jack said.

“He probably tried to make up for being a father who was never home when he was needed,” Jon spat, then sighed. “You're right, though. He was a great grandfather. He accomplished something I never did, he got you.”

Jack felt an unwanted stab of guilt. As a kid he had sometimes used his strong bond to grandpa Jack as a means to an end to provoke his dad. He hadn't known why back then and it hadn't been entirely conscious or calculated. Maybe to punish him for what he had done to Zorro and his raccoon family. “You were a great grandfather, too,” he finally said. And it was true. “Charlie thought you were the coolest guy ever.”

“Maybe I was trying to make up for something, too,” Jon said.

“Maybe it's an O'Neill thing.”

“No. Not you. You've always been a great dad. To Charlie. And, going by what he told me, to Daniel, too.”

“Maybe I'll be a lousy grandfather then,” Jack said lightly.

Jon stopped walking. “I tried, Jack. I might not always have been the dad you deserved or needed me to be, but I gave it my best shot.”

“I know what's it like,” Jack said, finally ready to give his dad some slack. “How hard it can be. Charlie was easygoing most of the time. Daniel is… complicated.” He had firsthand experience at how easy it was to screw up, to let temper get the better of you and how much effort it took to put things right sometimes. “You weren't a lousy dad.” He shrugged. “Not all the time anyway.”

Jon snorted. “I guess I deserve that.”

“Yeah. You do.”

“Fine. You're not a lousy son either. Not all the time anyway.” Ash trundled down and fizzed as it landed in the snow. “Dean said you made general. I guess that's something I should be proud of.”

Jack almost laughed at that. “Ye-ah, right.”

“Look, I'm not happy you joined, and I won't ever pretend otherwise. But unless you fell up the career ladder, which I don't believe because you've never been a bootlicker, you musta worked hard for it and that's something I can relate to.” The tone was gruff, almost curt.

Jack waited for the punch line. Like how many innocent civilians he'd had to kill to get his stars or what he had to blow up in order to be promoted. But it never came.

“Remember how Charlie used to salute you all the time when he was little?” Jon asked.

“Yeah. He practiced standing at attention in front of a mirror, too. We played that game… who could stand at attention the longest without moving or laughing while we faced each other.”

Jon blew out a thin line of smoke. “Think he would've joined, too?”

“If he had it would've been his choice.”

“What about Daniel?”

Jack smiled. “Daniel is going to change the world, make a difference, no matter what he ends up doing.”

“Sounds like Angus. He always had the head in the clouds, but he turned out well enough,” Jon said. “There's something special about your kid though. And he has guts. It's embarrassing when you realize that a whippersnapper like him seems to have a better handle on life than a guy beyond his seventies.”

“He's older than he appears to be.” And that was as far as Jack would go with this conversation.

Jon let the stump of his cigarette fall into the snow and they turned back towards the house in silence. But it was a new kind of silence, a peaceful one without the air of hostility and tension.

When they had reached the porch and were standing in the cone of light the lamp provided, Jon put a hand on Jack's arm. “There's something I want you to have.” He fumbled with the zipper of his jacket, opened it and reached into the inside pocket. “Remember that game the three of us went to, that fall, a couple weeks before he...”

“Minnesota Moose against the Chicago Wolves.” They had won 6:1. It had been a total victory day. Charlie had his hair sprayed green, purple and black and had been wearing his Dave Christian Moose player shirt. Number 27. They had stuffed themselves with popcorn and chili dogs and the game had been a total roller coaster.

Sara still had that shirt as far as Jack knew.

“A couple weeks after he… died… Dot found this under his bed in your room.” Jon pulled something out of his jacket and handed it to Jack. “Must've fallen outta his backpack or something when he packed to leave.”

Jack took the round heavy object, weighed it in his hands. “You bought it for him at the Merch booth. He looked for it everywhere. He thought he'd left it at the stadium, he was heartbroken.”

“I know. He called and Dot went upstairs to look for it, but couldn't find it. It had rolled far under the bed and gotten stuck behind a post. She only found it when she had to pull away the bed to have one of the sockets in your room fixed. But by the time he was already gone.”

“Dad…”

“Was the last time the three of us went out to have some fun together.”

“Why don't you keep it,” Jack said gently.

“We have lots of memories of him here. I made Dot take all his pictures down from the walls.” Jon took a deep breath. “I'll get used to seeing them hang there again. Sara told us you only took the train set and the sled and a couple of other small things...” Jon's gnarly hand closed Jack's fingers around the puck. “Take it home. Maybe it'll help you to remember we had good times too, Jonny.”

Jack felt the puck nestled in his palm. Despite the cold it was warm, almost as if it was alive, like a missing piece of his long gone son. He put his own hand over his father's and squeezed lightly, whispering a hoarse, “Thanks, dad.”

* * *

It was long after midnight when Daniel closed the attic door behind him. He felt a warm buzz from the excellent red wine Dot had poured him once everyone had gathered in the living room again for a late dessert and nightcap.

It had been amazing how different the atmosphere had been, how relaxed, opposed to the forced and uncomfortable dinner they had sat through. There hadn't been any words about what the two men had done or talked about on their walk. They had come home, shed their boots and jackets and announced they were hungry.

Dot had showed them her collection of 'The Wizard of OZ' books and LD had cajoled them all into playing a game of 'finish that quote' where he had started to read a sentence and they had to out yell each other to finish it. Jack had won, closely followed by his mom and Jon – who had not only participated in the game but also given them a hilarious variety of 'voices' for his quotes.

It had been a glimpse into what this family had been like in times of peace, when all the smoldering conflicts had been put on the back burner. It had turned out to be a pleasant evening. The fire had been going, the tree with all its funny ornaments had been lit, the Christmas music kept playing in the background and every once in a while someone snuck out to the kitchen to nibble on leftovers, bring in coffee or another round of blueberry pie.

Jack and Dean had carried the hockey table down and played round after round, trying to coax the Daniels into joining them. In the end Daniel and Jack's mom had taken over some of the players while LD and Jon had engaged in a game of Chess. Daniel had feigned boredom and complained all through the game, while in reality he'd had fun. It was an old vendetta between him and Jack – Daniel's aversion to hockey and Jack's animosity for museums, history and anything connected to it.

So they had played and bickered and bickered and played…

“I don't know why Jack even watches hockey. He complains about everything. The NHL, the rules, the… everything. He claims to love hockey, but claims everything about it is broken.”

“Well, it IS. Part of being a hockey fan is that you know everything is terrible, but nothing should ever change.”

“And whenever they discuss the game on TV once it's over, Jack starts throwing his beer caps at the screen and acting like they're going to execute his favorite team. Unless they won, of course. Ripping apart the other team is never wrong.”

“Because my favorite team's always trying the hardest.”

“That's so…”

“C'mon, Daniel, you don't switch sides of who's your favorite historical hero just because he happened to lose that one battle.”

“I think we established several times before that history isn't like ice hockey.”

“Yeah, sure. Everything in life is like hockey.”

“Prove it!”

“Prove it? Daniel, it's wisdom in its simplest form. First, hockey is a fast paced sport. Life can be pretty fast paced. You gotta take things as they come. You have to work together. Sometimes all the odds are against you. You are down a man and fighting with all you have to kill that penalty. The list goes on.”

“Listening to the two of you is highly amusing,” Dean had said at one point.

“I think it's more like having two squabbling children.” Dot had shaken her head.

“They are like this allll the time,” LD had thrown in from where he'd been hunched over the chess board.

Dean and Jon had insisted they all had one Fireball before going to bed to experience 'real Minnesota beverage'. Little Daniel had been the only one who got away with orange juice instead.

Daniel opened one of the circular windows to let in the cold night air. It smelled of snow and firewood. The circle of sky he could see was of an inky darkness with dots of light. He shed his clothes and slipped underneath the fluffy duvet Dot had provided him with.

He listened to the house creak and sigh the way old houses did at night. As if age was a burden to them, too. He wondered for a brief moment what his own parents would have been like now if they were still alive and old. Maybe in some of those alternate timelines the quantum mirror could send you to, they were retired now, living in Cairo in that house they used to own when Daniel had been little. Or maybe they had gone elsewhere…

There was a faint sound on the stairs. A halting step, then another one.

Daniel smiled and let the thoughts of his parents slip away.

The door was opened and closed with barely a snick and a click.

He heard Jack move around in the dark and a moment later a candle on the old coffee table was lit. “Romance,” Jack whispered. “I'd bring wine, but I think we're both buzzed enough from that Fireball stuff.”

Daniel got up and together they moved sheets, blanket and pillows to the floor. Trying to spoon up on a field bed wasn't a good idea.

Finally their impromptu bed was built and they huddled under the duvet, melting into each other. Jack wound himself around him, plastered to his back, covering him, lips ghosting over the curve of Daniel's shoulder. Daniel nestled into the familiar embrace, feeling Jack's slightly stubbled cheek rub against his own. A kiss was dropped on his temple. Their hands found each other under the blanket, fingers entwined gently. Jack's other palm rubbed softly down from Daniel's chest to his navel until it came to rest on his groin.

“You don't have… by any chance… condoms?” Jack's breath tickled Daniel's ear.

“Nope.”

Jack sighed. “I guess that's good. Because if you had, I'd be...”

“Perturbed?”

“Slightly.”

Daniel snorted.

“We can't make a mess on mom's duvet or her towels,” Jack muttered.

“Uh, no. Definitely no messes.”

“Could blow you. Swallow.”

“Might miss some, gets messy.”

Jack dropped his forehead and banged it gently against Daniel's shoulder. “I. Want. You.”

Daniel smiled. He wanted Jack, too. But this was nice, warm, cozy. He felt more relaxed and ready to sleep than he had in a very long time. There wasn't anything different about going to bed with Jack tonight than it had been on most nights when they had both been home at the same time. Yet, somehow something inside him had slowly started to unwind and untangle over the last two days.

“We could...” Daniel started, but stopped when he felt Jack's whole body tense behind him. “What?” he whispered, instantly on alert, too.

“Someone's sneaking around downstairs,” Jack breathed into his ear.

They lay perfectly still, listening.

Steps on the main stairs.

“Maybe someone got the munchies and went down for a snack,” Daniel murmured. Or maybe the dog needed out. Though that was unlikely. LD had taken him out before they had gone to bed.

Whoever was up was now in the corridor below. They could clearly hear the wood floor creak.

Jack unwrapped himself from Daniel, got up and slipped into his jeans without making a single sound. Daniel followed suit.

He had just put his glasses on when the dog let out a single alerting bark.

They were down the attic stairs in a flash. Flyboy was standing in the open door to Angus' room, growling deep in his throat. There was the outline of a tall guy with his back to them, cursing under his breath. “What the f...”

And then Jack was on him, bringing him down and kneeling on top of him without much struggle. “LD!” he barked. “You all right in there?”

“Fine,” came the prompt reply.

“What the hell is going o… ow!” The guy on the floor groaned when he was roughly hauled to his feet and slammed face forward against the wall. “Are you trying to break my nose, man?”

“I'm the one asking the questions,” Jack snarled. “Daniel… light.”

Daniel, not taking his eyes off the burglar for a second, groped for the light switch behind him on the wall and flipped it.

The intruder wore a North face down-filled blue jacket and a red beanie hat. No boots though. Instead Daniel saw a pair of white tennis socks which had been out of fashion since the Eighties. Something was odd about that. Jack grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around…

...and jumped backwards with a curse when tennis sock guy tried to knee him where it hurt the most. Daniel moved fast, got a tight grip on him and kicked his legs out from under him before he could make another move at Jack. Together they ended up on the floor and Daniel held him in place.

Grimacing, Jack crouched down beside the panting swearing intruder. “Don't try that again, pal.”

“Sorry. Reflexes,” the guy ground out. His voice was muffled because he was face down against the floor. Daniel saw a mop of blond gray-ish hair. Long-ish in the back, short at the sides.

“We'll let you up. Easy… keep those reflexes in check.” Jack gave Daniel a nod and he hauled the man back to his feet, turning him to face Jack.

Jack looked the burglar up and down, blinked, stepped closer and took another look.

“Jack?” Daniel had a terrible feeling about this all of a sudden.

“Jack?” The guy echoed flabbergasted. “JACK?”

“Aww, crap...” Jack muttered. “Daniel, that's...”

“Your brother? The one who's name means 'superior strength'?” Daniel let go of the culprit who had just become the victim. He stepped beside Jack and gave the man a lopsided grin. “Hi! I'm Daniel. Sorry for...”

Two doors opened down the hall and three sleepy people stepped out to see what was going on. Little Daniel appeared by Jack's side, one hand still securely holding onto Flyboy's collar. “Holy buckets, did you just beat up your brother, Jack?”

“Angus?” Dean yawned and scrubbed both hands through his disheveled hair. “That you?”

Jack sheepishly adjusted his younger brother's jacket and then patted his face. “He's fine. You're fine, right? Nothing's broken. All in one piece.”

“Oh my god!” It was Dorothy who rushed down the hallway and pulled her youngest son into a tight hug. She looked like a tiny fairy in her pink ankle length nightgown with the ruffed double tier hem and the elasticized cuffs. Poor Angus let out a strangled yelp when she squeezed his middle. “Oh my god,” she repeated with a gasp. “My boy is home!”

“Mom...” Angus said weakly, blushing. “It's okay, I'm here...”

“She never makes a fuss like that when I come visit,” Dean remarked with a smirk.

“He's always been her baby,” Jack said, grinning.

The very well built 'baby' of the family winced when his mother kept hugging him fiercely.

“Let him breathe, Dot,” Jon chuckled and finally she let go of her son and stepped back, hands on her hips.

“Now, what is this, sneaking around here in the middle of the night! Why didn't you call! I was sick with worry when I couldn't reach you all week!”

Poor Angus looked like he wished he hadn't shown up at all. He rolled his shoulders carefully and rubbed a spot on his ribs. “My phone died somewhere between Mumbay and Minneapolis and I think it's kaput. And then I thought it'd be a nice surprise if I'd just show up for breakfast tomorrow.” He rubbed what probably was a bump on the side of his head, hidden by his hair. “Ow. And then there was this monster in my room,” he pointed at the dog, “and my beloved brother whom I haven't seen in years, and his buddy here...”

“Daniel,” Daniel introduced himself again.

“Right. Angus. Hi.” He started peeling himself out of his jacket, revealing a blue and green Scotch Plaid flannel shirt.

Dot took his jacket from him. “How did you get here anyway? Did you rent a car at the airport?” She wrinkled her nose. “Gosh, this needs washing!”

“I hitched a couple of hikes from Duluth. Last one dropped me off at town's square and I walked the rest.”

“Hitchhiking! You should have rented a car!” Dot put the jacket on a chest of drawers.

“Mo-om, I'm fine. Stop fussing. Dad, tell her to stop fussing,” Angus groaned.

“Welcome home, son.” Jon looked him up and down and clapped his shoulder. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks, dad, I really needed to hear that.”

Jon chuckled. “You're welcome. I suggest we all go back to bed. There'll be plenty of time to get to know Jack's boyfriend and their kid tomorrow, eh?”

Angus blinked. Daniel noticed he had his mother's hazel eyes, but like his brothers the resemblance to his dad was more prominent.

“Oh, but we're short of one room now.” Dot threw up her hands. “Someone has to share with Angus for tonight.”

“LD can have my room,” Jack said. “I'll… uh...” He pointed back over his shoulder at the attic stairs.

Daniel almost expected Jack's parents to object, maybe even to downright forbid their fifty-fiveyear old son to bunk in with his lover. Knowing Jack had been living with Daniel for the last couple of years didn't necessarily mean his parents would be comfortable with them sharing a bed in their house.

But they didn't even bat an eyelid.

“Perfect,” Dot stated. “Oh, Angus, you should take a shower before going to bed. And there are dinner leftovers in the kitchen if you're hungry.” She reached up to frame her youngest's face with both hands and planted a motherly kiss on his nose. “I'm so happy all my boys are home now.”

“Thanks, mom,” Angus muttered, rubbing his nose.

“Sure, why not. But this is so the last time I'm gonna switch rooms,” Little Daniel grumbled and trudged back into his room to grab his bag. Daniel was pretty sure he hadn't even unpacked. All of them were trained to make a fast retreat if necessary, so they never really unpacked when they stayed elsewhere. It was a habit that bled over from the field into their private lives. Some things were just too deeply ingrained to shake.

Once his parents, Dean and LD had retreated to their bedrooms, Angus stared at Jack. “So… Jack. Ten years. Not a word, not a call.”

Jack winced visibly. “Look… I know I screwed up there, big time. Just...”

“Let's talk about this tomorrow when I'm not falling asleep on my feet. Just one thing… What the fuck happened to your hair?” Angus inquired.

“My… oh, that's all his fault.” Jack pointed at Daniel.

Daniel crossed his arms and glared, but had to grin anyway.

Angus eyed Daniel with raised eyebrows. “Oh, right. The... boyfriend? Really?”

Daniel didn't sense any hostility or resentment in Angus' words, only honest curiosity paired with a smidge of incredulity. “Pretty much, yep.”

Jack's brother gave him a crooked smile. “Nice.”

“Hey, sorry again… for smacking you around.” Daniel cringed a little.

“You're good. You military, too?” Angus circled his neck, probably to get the kinks out.

“Civilian consultant on Air Force pay roll.”

Jack's brother yawned again. “Sounds interesting.”

Jack clapped his hands like a camp counselor and announced, “Bed time, campers. We can all chit and chat tomorrow.” Raising his voice he added, “That goes for you, too, Little D.”

The door opened a crack and a disheveled blond head appeared. “How the heck… oh, never mind.”

“Good night, Daniel,” Jack smirked.

The door was closed with a thud.

Angus blinked and shook his head. “I can't wait to hear about that one,” he muttered and entered his room.


	10. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**X**

“Done!” LD slapped the snow off his jacket and took a step back.

“Atrue work of art.” Jack cocked his head, admiring the bumpy snow… man… woman… whatever. Its head sported Jack's cap, but his massive body was adorned with one of Dot's pink cardigans. Its twigsy arms sported a pair of blue snow gloves Dean had contributed and around the huge neck hung a Minnesota Wildcats scarf in navy, orange and white, courtesy of Angus O'Neill. Askew on his face, framing black coal eyes sat BD's sun glasses.

Daniel flipped his phone open and took a picture, pushing away the uneasy thoughts of Frosty the snow alien they had built several years ago in Jack's backyard only moments before Ba'al had beamed them up.

Today was very different. There were no evil aliens in sight.

Dot and Dean had served them a huge wonderful breakfast before she and Jon had gone to church for the mass at 10:00. For a brief moment Daniel had been afraid they would all have to join them and sit through Christmas morning Mass, but the moment had come and gone and Jack's parents had left without them.

They had cleared the table and tidied up the kitchen together. Once Jack and BD had revealed all the basic need-to-know stuff about how they had met and why LD had ended up living with them, Jack had skillfully turned everyone's attention away from himself and the Daniels by asking his youngest brother about the places he had been and the charitable work he was doing. It had worked like a charm. Angus had plenty of stories to tell and both Daniels had urged him to tell them some more.

Later Jack, BD, Dean and Angus had started another hockey game and Daniel had been the referee. Dean's and BD's team had won, but Jack and Angus wanted a revenge game. Lots of yelling and laughter ensued and somehow they had all ended up outside at a snowball fight which then somehow led to building snowmen.

BD, Dean and Angus had tried their hand at a Sphinx, but it looked more like a very fat Cheshire cat. They claimed it was artistic liberty. Daniel and Jack had a good laugh at them anyway.

Just when Daniel was about to put his phone away it bleeped, telling him he had a text message. He felt his heart speed up. Last night he had texted Tara to wish her a Merry Christmas. He couldn't believe how much soul searching it had taken until he had decided to send her a text. He hated how his mind sometimes took a simple gesture or action and started tearing it apart, analyzing it, reconsidering it… until he managed to confuse himself to the point of not knowing what to do.

Wasn't his life experience of 42 years supposed to help him deal with all this?

Then again he'd been perfectly able to confuse himself even when he'd been an adult. BD probably still did that from time to time.

He held his breath and opened the message.

_'Hey, D, Merry Xmas 2 u 2, miss u, xoxo_ _'_

Daniel tried hard not to grin like a loon when he quickly put his phone away, but… _she misses me_ … He didn't read too much into the xoxo as it was pretty SOP for girls to end texts that way. But she missed him. Well, maybe that was just an empty phrase like the xoxo, but it was nice to imagine that maybe she _really_ missed him.

Which, of course, threw him headfirst into the next problem. Tara was 15. What did 'I miss you' translate to for a 15 year old girl? Did it mean she wanted them to be 'more than friends'?

_She kissed you, stupid, of course that's what she wants._

Even though she said she only wanted to be friends. And that she was into girls right now.

_She's a teen, she probably has no idea what she wants or she wants different things every day, probably every hour. Remember girls when you were 12 the first time around? Or 14, 15…?_

Except he hadn't had have any experience with girls until he'd met Sarah in college. He'd only been 17 then and all he had known about sex came from books like “Sacred Sexuality in Ancient Egypt – Erotic Secrets of the forbidden Papyrus” or “Sex and Eroticism in Mesopotamian” He'd had to read them for his anthropology classes. He'd had a pretty impressive list of tragic dramatic encounters with women once he'd joined the Stargate program, but those had been adults with alien cultural backgrounds.

 _This isn't about sex,_ he thought, panicking slightly. This would be like going out, having a coke, a movie maybe, pizza, a good night kiss.

He could do that.

_She's 15. What do you think she'd want to do while watching a movie? Eat your popcorn?_

Daniel sighed. He knew he was over thinking this. As usual.

“Hey, buddy, what's up?” Jack called out to him and when Daniel turned around a snowball came flying his way. He ducked and the ball landed smack in the face of the Cheshire Sphinx. The dog dashed after the flying snow and started running around the sphinx, barking happily.

Daniel sauntered over to where Jack scooped up another handful of snow and fired it successfully at the dog. Jack threw up his arms, howling, “O'Neill throws and scooores!”

Sometimes it was hard to tell who was the 'kid' in this family.

“Where is everybody?” Daniel suddenly realized it was just Jack, Flyboy and him out here.

“Inside, sipping hot chocolate. Those chickens can't even stand a little cold.”

Daniel looked longingly at the house. Hot chocolate sounded heavenly. Instead he adjusted the beanie on his head and fell into step with Jack who followed the dog around the corner of the house.

“Jack?”

“Daniel?”

“When you were… let's say 15? Did you go out with girls?”

If Jack was surprised by his question he didn't let it show. “Dating was a no-no until you turned 16 around here. If you want to know if there was a girl when I was 15 the answer is yes.” He smirked. “There was a guy, too. Those were very confusing times for my hormones...”

“The Captain of the hockey team.” Daniel knew that story.

“Oh, him? Nah, he was way outta my league. He was just fantasy material.” Jack shook his head. “No, his name was… Michael, Milt, Martin… something like that. We fooled around a bit, nothing serious.”

“What about the girl?”

“She was already _a_ senior, in her last year.” Jack sounded smug. “She showed me all the bells and whistles. In her car.”

“God, Jack, that's so clichéd.”

“She offered to give, we gratefully took.”

“Okay, that...”

“TMI, I know.” Jack shrugged. “Take it as a little payback for all the Twilight Zone moments you kept putting me through some years back.”

Daniel decided to ignore that. “When you started going out with girls… did they sometimes give you mixed signals? Like kissing you on a date and then claiming you're just friends? Or hanging out with you but treating you like her kid-brother in front of her other, older, friends?” Daniel reached into his pocket and closed his hand around his phone. “And do you think girls are different from women? Sha're sometimes said one thing and meant another. I know Sam does it too sometimes, but not a lot because she's not very girly. But are teenagers the same? Or do you think they don't even know what they're doing?”

“I'd say they don't know what they're doing,” Jack said, then laughed when Daniel gave him an indignant look. “What? You asked.”

“Ja-ack...”

“You're over thinking this, kiddo.”

“Tell me something I don't know,” Daniel muttered.

“Okay.” Jack put a hand on his shoulder and they stopped walking. He pulled Daniel around so that they were facing each other. “Who's giving you mixed signals? The little Nox girl?”

“Her name is...”

“Tara, I know. She just reminds me of Lya a lot.”

Daniel grinned. “Her hair is really wild, isn't it? It's so cool.”

“Like she put her hand into a socket,” Jack deadpanned. “So, what's going on?”

“I don't know.”

“Ah. What do you _think_ is going on?”

“We're friends. We hang out together at the center a lot. Last summer when we did that vision quest,” Daniel cringed a little at Jack's scowl, “she kissed me.”

“Kissed you,” Jack echoed, his left eyebrow climbing upwards. “I thought she's into girls?”

“She's bi. It was just a kiss-kiss. No tongues, no groping. But it was a kiss.”

“Okay. Then what?”

“Then nothing. It happened after the quest. We were probably still a bit high, I don't know. Then you showed up…” Daniel shrugged. “But she told me not to read anything into the kiss and that we were just friends and that she was into girls at the moment anyway. But sometimes when we are alone and walking or something she takes my hand. She's got a book with love poetry for same gender romance and sometimes she reads poems to me and wants to talk about them.”

“And you're okay with talking about that?”

Daniel shrugged. “I'm an anthropologist. I don't mind. I just don't know what it means. To her. What her motivations are. Is it because there's no one else she could talk poetry to or is it something else? Does she see me like a BFF...”

“Like what?”

“Best Friend Forever.”

“Ah. What does it mean to you?” Jack asked back.”How does it make you feel?”

Daniel sighed. “I… don't know that either. It's nice, I guess. Lyrical. But I have no clue what she expects from me. She's older than me and she's waaaay younger than me. That alone is confusing the hell out of me.”

“But you like her.”

“Sure, I do.” He felt himself blush which was annoying.

“Did you talk to Gavin about this?”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “About the fact that I'm older and younger than the girl I am friends with? And that this might generally be an issue for me in any kind of relationship I might pursue when I'm older? Yes. About Tara in particular… no.” He kicked the snow away with the need to vent his frustration. “Gavin keeps telling me the age thing isn't an issue. That I need to let go of the habit of always measuring my 'real' age against my 'now' age, that I have to think of myself as a person with needs and feelings, a person who is growing up again, and not to define myself by the fact that I used to be big.”

“Easy said, eh?”

“He's right. I KNOW he is right. But that doesn't make it easy.” Daniel laughed. “It's always the same damn thing, isn't it? I'm a kid and I'm not. I'll always be something in between until I'm all grown up again.”

“You chose this...,” Jack started quietly.

Daniel took a deep breath. “And because I chose this, I shouldn't complain and suck it up, is that it?! Thanks, Jack, great conversation!” He spun around to walk back to the house, but Jack quickly got a hold of his jacket and kept him in place.

“Do you want to listen to this or not?”

“I listened. You said I chose this, you're right,” Daniel snapped.

“I wasn't done. You chose this because you wanted to embrace growing up again, right?”

“Yess, and I do. I am. But...”

“No one said it's always gonna be easy. You didn't expect it to be easy, you said so yourself.”

“No, I know, but...”

“Daniel...” Jack's gloved hand cupped his face, gently but firmly forcing him to look up into those warm brown eyes. “You already know what I'm gonna say, do you?”

Daniel sighed. “Go with the flow? Relax? Take things as they come?”

“That.” Jack let go of his face and patted his shoulder. “And this; I don't have to give you the birds and bee speech. I also know you'd never do anything she wouldn't approve of.”

“I'm not even sure I'd do everything she'd want me to do IF she wanted me to do anything to her… with her,” Daniel groaned as the heat crept back into his cheeks. “Sometimes she acts kinda shy and sometimes I think she's playing me cause she gets off on it. But then I think that's only my grown up experiences reading things into… things.”

“My senior high gal let me explore but never pushed. I think she was on a mission to teach younglings like me the fine art of,” Jack made air quotations, “making out'. Most guys around here had their first experiences with her.”

Daniel squinted at Jack, “I should be Tara's senior high gal… guy?”

“If, and I'm stressing the 'if' here, things develop in that direction some day and you're comfortable with that...” Jack trailed off and winced. “You know, these conversations with you always fill me with such...”

“Dread?”

“Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you confide in me and all that… What I'm trying to say is that whatever is going to happen, she'll be safe with you. She couldn't be more safe with anyone else.”

“Because I've been there, done that. I'm the experienced one. I never WAS the experienced one before,” Daniel said slowly.

“Yep.” Jack sounded relieved and Daniel felt a little bit sorry for him.

“I know how awkward talking about this is… for both of us, actually,” he murmured, blushing again. “Given our… but...” He didn't know how to explain this. Maybe it would be easier to talk to BD about these things, but that would be like talking to a mirror because BD could only draw from the same experiences in his past as Daniel. Jack had a different kind of back story and a different perspective on some things. Sometimes that was helpful.

Jack shook his head. “No. Don't apologize for coming to me. Not ever. You know I want you to talk to me, awkward or not.”

“Yeah, I know. Jack? Did you ever had weird conversations with Charlie?”

Jack waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, you bet. Weird and challenging. It went from; 'Daddy, why are we born naked?' to 'Can I become the cookie monster when I'm big?', 'Is mommy sad 'cause she doesn't have a penis' to 'Do they shrink people so they fit into the TV?' and 'Why can't I see my own eyes'.”

Daniel had started laughing at the cookie monster. “How did you answer all those?”

“Because there are no malls in mommies' bellies, you'd hate to groom all that blue fur every day to get out the cookie crumbs, talk to your mom about that, we could write to FOX TV and ask them. And if you want to see your eyes, look into a mirror.”

Still laughing, Daniel smacked Jack's arm. “You just made that up!”

“Ahh, but those were the easy ones. Try to come up with something about why the sky is blue or why the sun can burn in space if there's no air. I didn't know Carter back then so those were tough ones.” Jack whistled for the dog. “C'mon, let's see if they saved some hot chocolate for us, buddy.”

* * *

“These are great!” BD leafed through Angus' journal, admiring the detailed drawings of the pillars of Ashoka. “I always wanted to go to India and visit some of the sites.”

“I like to sketch what I see if I have time to do it.” Angus shrugged. “Dean is the real artist in this family. You should see his art, he's truly gifted.”

“Did you ever consider becoming an archeologist?” He had even captured the inscriptions of some of the pillars; lions and the Ashoka Chakra wheel with its 24 spokes.

“I actually took some classes during college, just for fun, but I wanted to work with real people, not with dead cultures.” Angus sipped from his hot chocolate. Daniel could feel his hazel eyes resting on him, assessing, thoughtful. “I take it you and Jack have been together for a while?”

Daniel closed the journal. “Several years, actually.”

“Against regs. Tough choice.”

“It's a risk we don't take lightly. We're both very aware of our responsibilities.”

Angus' penetrating look softened. “I guess that means it's more than being fuck buddies. Not a convenient way of getting your rocks off. No offense, but I've seen a lot of that happen when people are on assignments together and far away from home. It doesn't only work that way in the military and it can go on for years.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“I don't know. The fact that you're here with him on the holidays says a lot. But you both seem to have a talent for avoiding having to talk about yourselves, your lives. I get what you do for the Air Force is probably classified, but...”

“There're no secrets,” Daniel lied without batting an eyelid. “We used to be on a team together...”

“What kind of team?”

“That's classified.”

“Ah. Right. Of course. Look, I haven't seen my brother in ten years. I know a lot can happen in ten years. But he… when I last saw him at his kid's funeral he was a broken man. I'd never seen him like that. It was… crap, it was creepy. I didn't think there was anything that could break him. Not Jack.” Angus' eyes darkened as he seemed to be caught in his memories. “When I was a kid he used to be the kind of bro you look up to. He even took lickings from dad for me a couple of times. That's how Jack was. He always looked out for us. When his kid died he crumbled away, fell apart. I was almost relieved when he didn't come back because I couldn't stand seeing him like that and I couldn't help him either.”

“I know. I met him … a year after Charlie died.”

“And now he's a high ranking general, with a male lover and a kid. I haven't seen him this comfortable in his own skin since Charlie…” Angus put his mug down on the kitchen table. “I just… I need to know… You and Jack…”

“I'd give my life for him. And I know he'd do the same for me.”

Angus nodded. “I don't ever want to see him hurt like that again.”

“Uh, that's... not always entirely in our hands. But I would never hurt him. And if we ever get separated, for whatever reason, it won't be by choice.”

“Good enough,” Angus said, a genuine smile blossoming on his face.

The kitchen door flew open and Dean appeared, balancing boxes and jars in his arms. “I got everything from the craft room. Let the fun begin!”

They settled around the table with their coffee mugs and a plate of cookies. Each of them chose something from the variety of materials. Glittery paper, Styrofoam baubles, buttons, cardboard in every color, fabric remnants and much more.

Daniel had just gathered everything he needed for his ornament when Jack and the kid showed up, the dog in tow. LD went for the crafts immediately, wedging himself on a chair between Angus and Dean. Jack left again and returned with a piece of wood and his knife. He turned the chair next to Daniel around and sat astride on it, resting his arms on the backrest.

“Everything okay?” Daniel asked quietly.

“We're good.” And then Jack leaned in, eyes twinkling alluringly, and they did something they had never done before outside their small circle of trusted friends. They kissed. It was a quick 'Hi honey, I'm home' kiss, sweet and gentle.

It was earth shattering.

Daniel didn't smother his smile as he licked his lips. Jack drew back and started whittling. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like it was perfectly normal. They rarely had the privilege of openly showing their affection. They were so used to keeping it under wraps, they just did it on auto pilot. Letting down that guard… and not having to worry about it... was new. And freeing in a way Daniel never imagined it would be.

Jack's brothers smirked at each other while LD's eyebrows raised above his glasses before he grinned and started working on his Styrofoam snowman.

* * *

“Here, let me hang it.” Jack took the carved Santa head from his mom's hand and hung it high up on the tree, close to the old weathered raccoon he had made when he'd been nine.

LD's snowman and Daniel's golden scrapbook paper pyramid hung on either side of Charlie's NANA DOT bauble.

Jack's mom touched Dean's cardboard Christmas tree which was decked in tiny gold and silver buttons and red ribbons. “So many new ornaments.” She clapped her hands with delight and spun around to take Jack's hands. “And we went to church! Did you know Jon and I haven't been to church in years?”

Jack squeezed her fingers lightly. “No, I didn't know that.”

“He refused to go after what happened to Charlie.” She sighed. “I went alone sometimes, but we never went together anymore. And never on Christmas.”

“And now he changed his mind?” Jack raised his eyebrow. When he had been a kid Sunday church had been mandatory, and yet he couldn't remember his parents reciting from the bible or threatening them with godly consequences if they misbehaved. He had never given the reasoning behind church much thought – he had just tried to get out of going if he could.

“I had to. I needed to say thanks for all of my boys coming home for the holidays.” She stood on tip toe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for staying, Jonny. I know you were angry with me...”

“Nah.” He brushed it off with the shrug of one shoulder. “I'm glad you called.”

“And I'm glad you and your father did talk. He didn't tell me what was said, but he went to church with me. And he asked me to hang Charlie's pictures back up in the hallway.”

“Good.” It was where his son's photos belonged. He had been the pride and joy of this house, he should be remembered that way, just like Dean had said.

“You found love again, Jack.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You don't know how much it makes my heart sing that you have come home a happy man. Don't ever let go of it.”

“I won't.” He had made that vow a long time ago. Clearing his throat he felt compelled to add. “You and dad took it pretty well.”

“I'm just happy for you. And your dad...” the mood changed again as she chuckled. “Your dad has much less trouble with you loving a man than he will ever have about you joining the military.”

Jack snorted. “Ye-ah, I bet.”

Dot let go of Jack's hands and turned back to the tree, a dreamy look on her face. She tapped a finger against Angus' silhouette of the Taj Mahal. “Your brother keeps talking about all those places he has seen. And I have never left this country in my life.” There was a longing in her voice Jack had never heard before. “He said he'd arrange a vacation for Jon and me if we want, wherever we want. He gets travel discounts from his foundation.”

“Why not? You're both still fit enough to travel.” God knew for how long. The realization that his parents weregetting old had slowly sunk in over the last couple of days. The last time Jack had seen them they had been older, yes, but not like this, not marked by age so much. And he was grateful his dad's 'heart attack' had only been heartburn.

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, then laughed. “Can you imagine your dad in India or strolling around the bazaar in Marrakesh?”

“Who's strolling bazaars in Marrakesh?” Jon O'Neill entered the living room, carrying two cups of tea.

“You. If mom's gonna have her way,” Jack said.

Jon handed one of the cups to his wife and put the other one down on the coffee table. “Your mother always has her way, sooner or later.”

“It's why you love me,” she twittered.

Jack's dad put an arm around her small shoulders. She looked like a doll next to him. “We are lucky if we find a mate who's better than we are even if we'll never admit it.”

Jack, who had always believed Daniel to be the better man especially when it came to feelings and making this relationships work, grinned. “Amen to that.”

Dot snorted and raised her tea cup. “I'll drink to that.” She took a long sip, then started coughing and wheezing. “Oh my goodness, Jon! What did you put in my tea!”

Jon took the cup from her. “Uh, sorry for that. This would've been my cup, honey.”

“I guess you're busted,” Jack pointed out smugly.

* * *

Saying goodbye on Boxing day was a loud and cheerful affair even though LD was sure Dot had shed a few tears in private, going by her slightly puffy eyes. Lots of hugging and kissing occurred and he was caught in the middle of it all. But that was okay. Everything was light and easy, totally different to how it had felt when he and BD had arrived.

Jack handed Angus the keys to his rental. “No hitch hiking back to the airport, buddy.”

“Nice. You already paid for it?”

“Nope, but I called them this morning. They'll accept your card. Let me know what they charged you with and I'll get it back to you.”

Angus shrugged. “We can split.” He laughed and pocketed the keys. “Still looking out for me, Jack? How did I ever survive all those years without you, eh?”

“That's a mystery to me,” Jack grumbled and LD watched them hug hard and long. He wondered if part of Angus felt a bit of resentment for Jack being out of touch for so long or if he was just glad to have his brother back. He sensed how close they must have been, all three of them, once. Part of that closeness had quickly re-established itself, but three days was hardly enough time to re-touch all the bases and close all the gaps.

Jon had taken him to the hangar this morning and 'introduced' him to the planes. Daniel had tagged along, showing as much interest as he could muster without encouraging Jon to go into deeper levels of explanations about how planes worked. Jack had joined them just when he started to feel glassy eyed. Jack had steered the conversation away from planes and launched into some stories about flying across the Big Bog and delivering goods to people who had lived mostly isolated from civilization and were often pretty quirky. It had been fun to listen to Jack and his dad swapping memories and Daniel was glad about the healing process that had started there.

“We will send you a belated Christmas gift,” Dot promised as she squeezed him for what felt like the tenth time or so. The O'Neills were a hugging bunch, that was for sure.

“Oh, really, you don't have to,” he said, blushing. “I didn't bring anything for you either.”

“But I want to.” She cupped his face. “It's been so long since I got to buy fun stuff for my… a kid.”

Daniel knew she had wanted to say 'my grandchild*. His first impulse was to ignore it and just let the awkward moment pass, but then he surprised himself. “I don't remember my real grandma. She died before I was born. And my other grandparents were already gone, too.”

“What about your other grandpa?” Jon, who was suddenly standing next to his wife, asked.

“He's gone, too. But at least I got to know him.”

Jon nodded. “I know you're no little boy and maybe you feel like you don't need new grandparents, but we're pretty good at all the grandparent stuff, especially Dot, so if you're comfortable with that, we're in business.” He held out his calloused hand.

Daniel grabbed it and they shook hands. “No one's ever too old to have grandparents.”

“We're honored, Daniel,” Dot whispered as she brushed a hand over his head. “And I hope it won't take another ten years until I get to see you again.” She gave Jack a stern look. “All of you!”

“We'll be in touch,” Jack promised.

“Definitely,” BD added as he pulled the tarp over the truck's bed.

“I'll send e-mails,” LD said. “And maybe you and Jon can come visit us in the summer.”

“If we are not cruising the Ganges,” Jon muttered. “I for one always liked Colorado a lot better than India.”

“Oh, yeah, it's nice. Mountains. Clean air. Not as hot as India,” Jack smirked.

LD high fived Jack's brothers, the cool way of saying farewell, and winked at Angus. “I wouldn't mind coming to India. I always wanted to visit its dig sites.”

“Funny, that's exactly what your uncle said. I guess it's a date then.”

“Yeah!”

“Maybe we can all go together,” Dot said with delight.

“I'm in,” Dean agreed with a wide smile.

Jon and Jack exchanged long suffering looks and everyone started laughing.

“You take good care of that dog, LD.” Jon opened the back door of the truck and Flyboy climbed in. “He's a mighty fine fella.”

Daniel put the harness on Flyboy who kept trying to lick Jon's hands. “He's the best.” When the dog had settled Jon put a large hand on Daniel's shoulder. “Hey, kid, if your dad gives you hard times here and there give him some slack. He comes from a family of stubborn hardnosed men, he probably doesn't know better.”

“Oh, I know how to deal with him, no worries,” Daniel said, tongue in cheek.

Jon cracked up at that and clapped his back, calling over to Jack, “I think you got just the kid you deserved, son. I love it.”

And then they all climbed into the truck and Jack hit the horn as they drove away, a last goodbye to the waving people gathered in front of the house.

They followed the long winding road, crossed the bridge over what Jack had told him was called Clearwater River and when Daniel looked back, Bottineau Ave shrunk away in the distance until the black band of the street vanished behind town buildings and a gas station.

“Daniel, that was very kind, what you just did there,” Jack said out of the blue.

“It made them happy,” Daniel replied.

“Yeah, it did.”

“I like them.” And he hadn't exactly promised to call them 'grandma' and 'grandpa'. And even if they wanted him too, it wasn't like he would see them a lot. Once or twice a year, top. Writing e-mails and making phone calls was easy. “If I was a real kid, I would want them to be my grandparents.”

“Thanks, kiddo, it means a lot.” Jack's voice was unusually soft and Daniel saw the smile in his eyes when they exchanged a look in the rear mirror.

“I like them, too,” BD said. “Your brothers, too. Your mom must have had her hands full when you were kids.”

“We were all very well behaved angelic little rugrats,” Jack said, straight faced.

“Just like me,” LD said.

The dog was startled out of his nap by the ensuing laughter.

  



	11. Still Jack and Daniel Series 4 - The Rainbow Series III

**XI**

Jack wrapped his arms around the Daniels and together they stood by the frozen pond, their faces tilted upwards as they watched the gift of nature given to them on this New Year Eve. Alien skies, no matter how fascinating, couldn't hold a candle to this.

Above them the northern lights floated, stretched and shrunk as they wafted in their brilliancy. They danced across the sky, green, pink and a darker purple slowly fading into each other, embracing, melting, connecting. They shimmered and expanded again, then rained down and rose up slowly before they moved on, above the trees, further away, but still visible. Glittering stars lurked from behind or inside it.

Jack remembered this from when he'd been a boy, how they had stood on the roof with dad. How special he had felt to be able to watch the display of lights and at the same time how small he felt in comparison to what nature could do.

And how incredibly good it had felt to feel his father's large hand on his shoulder as they watched. How even his dad – who was hard to impress - had been awestruck by the Aurora Borealis. All of it had been just great. The sense of adventure to be allowed to get out of bed in the middle of the night, to climb the roof, wrapped in blankets in summer and bundled up in their snow gear in winter. Sometimes there had been hot chocolate and cookies if mom had still been up.

“ _These are God's paintings, Jonny. He's the biggest artist of all.”_

It was probably the only religious thing Jack had ever heard his father say.

Jon had said he tried to give it his best shot. To be a good father. And despite the hurt and the misunderstandings, despite all their quarrels Jack had no reason to doubt him. His dad had taught him the beauty of nature, the love and freedom of flying. He had taught him to use his head and his hands and to always stand up for his friends and face the music when he'd screwed up. The lessons had sometimes been hard and painful, but maybe he had benefited from some of it after all. He hadn't turned out that bad.

All things considered it hadn't been all bad. Yet, Jack hoped that Daniel – once he'd made it through his teen years and grown all the way up again – wouldn't look back and consider Jack's parental skills as 'not all bad'.

“Whoaaaa, so coool,” LD uttered and Jack smiled. One could tell the kid was hanging out with other kids a lot lately.

“Get your phone and take a pic for the little Nox girl to impress her.”

“Ja-ack, stop calling her that. You know exactly what her name is.” But he was fumbling with his jacket pockets to get his iPhone out.

Jack waited until the picture was taken before he asked, “What was it again? Terra? Tuna? Tulip?”

“Jack! Daniel, tell him to stop it.”

“Stop it, Jack,” BD said obediently, eyes still fixed on the sky where the lights began to fade further away from them.

They waited until the night sky was dark again before they went back inside the cabin. Jack put more wood on the fire and LD started pacing the room, trying to find a spot where his phone might catch an internet signal so he could send his picture.

“Hey, guys, Dot gave me something she wants us to do tonight.” BD was in the kitchenette, putting a paper bag on the counter by the stove. He started looking for something in the cupboards and came up with a small melting pot for chocolate.

“Tin melting?” Jack joined him and picked up one of the three small horseshoes. “It's a Finnish tradition. My mom's grandparents were from Helsinki.”

“You're quite the multi-cultural guy,” Daniel teased. “Native American, Finland...”

“Ancient,” LD piped up. He had climbed the couch and stretched himself as long as possible, one hand placed against the wall while waving the phone around with the other. When he sat one foot on the armrest, Jack felt compelled to remind him the furniture in his cabin had survived three generations of O'Neills.

“I'll be careful,” said the man in a child's body as he started balancing on the armrest, then yelled. “I have net connection!”

“Daniel Jackson O'Neill, If you break that couch...”

“Waitwaitwait...”

“...you are going to your room ASAP...”

“Aaaand….come onnn… come ON...” Daniel's eyes were glued to the screen, his finger hovering over it. The couch trembled and the kid raised one leg to keep his balance.

“Aaaand I'll take away your phone until we're home again.”

“Sent!” LD jumped off the couch, skidded across the room and quickly shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Did someone mention tin and fortune telling?”

Jack resisted the urge to go and examine the couch for damage. Maybe his dad had been right and he'd gotten exactly the kid he deserved this time around. Little bits of payback for some of the stuff he'd had inflicted on his own folks.

Well, most of the time he wouldn't have it any other way.

“There is a list with interpretations of the figures.” BD had put a bowl with cold water on the counter, turned on the gas stove and picked up the long handled melting pot. His little horseshoe lay at the bottom and slowly started melting as they all watched.

When the horseshoe had melted into a tiny puddle of molten tin BD quickly turned the pot over and let it slither into the cold water. It fizzed and as it cooled down fast it started to morph into something else.

LD grabbed the paper sheet. “It's a bird!”

“I don't know. It looks more like a cradle,” BD said.

“I got nothing.” Jack stared at the lump of tin. “Well… it could be a pig.”

“A bird means 'good luck is coming to you', a cradle means you'll be invited to a baptism, and a pig means 'luck in playing games',” LD read from the list.

“Seems you're the lucky guy.” Jack teased.

“Yeah. I am.” BD leaned back against him. “I so totally am.”

 _So am I_ , Jack thought, wrapping his arms around Daniel's middle and dropping his chin on his shoulder. _So am I._

“I'm next.” LD took the melting pot and tossed his horseshoe in.

“Those are steps,” BD said once the molted tin transformed slowly in the cold water.

“A chimney sweeper – with a ladder on his back,” Jack guessed. He still didn't get anything, really. What could you seriously expect to see from a lump of molten tin? But he didn't want to be a spoil sport.

LD eyed his tin, cocked his head and finally decided, “It's a guitar.”

“A guitar?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

LD looked at the list. “A guitar means 'secret longings'.” To Jack's amusement he blushed slightly, then hurried on, “A chimney sweeper means 'luck in love'. Stairs mean 'new assignments await you'.”

Jack whistled. “Secret longings and luck in love is my bet.”

“New assignments sounds interesting,” BD said. “Your turn, Jack.”

With regret Jack left his cozy place at Daniel's back to stand at the stove and melt his horseshoe. “Let's see what fortune holds for me in 2008,” he announced cheerfully. “Will I be pretty, will I be rich, will we have rainbows day after day...”

The kid started humming 'Whatever will be, will be' and BD laughed. “That's sooo...”

“Gay?” Jack raised his eyebrows and batted his lashes.

“Very gay.”

The tin was tossed into the water and turned into a blob of…

“A cake!” LD cheered.

“A basket,” BD offered.

“Clover,” Jack decided.

“Clover: Satisfaction and luck, basket: luck in love and cake means that festivities are coming up.” LD grinned. “Looks like it's gonna be a good year for all of us.”

“Speaking of years...” BD checked his watch. “It's almost time! Break out the bubbly, Jack.”

“I'll get glasses!” LD was already at the cupboard. “There are only juice glasses. None for bubbly.”

“Juice glasses will do.” Jack opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle. It had been in there when they had arrived, with a note from Carter to 'have a party and think of us'. They had left groceries, too and small gifts for each of them underneath the bedraggled Christmas tree. It had been a nice surprise when they had gotten here.

All of them being trained military they had their boots and jackets on in a flash.

“One minute,” BD cautioned, eyes glued to his watch.

“Okay, let's go!” Jack and the bottle took point as they trudged outside and gathered by the pond again.

“Fifty secs.”

He let the cork pop and they watched as it propelled upwards, described a curve and landed somewhere on the ice. Jack poured BD and himself a generous amount of Schaffenberger's Brut Excellence and a less generous amount for the kid with the whispered words of caution not to tell Janet.

At Daniel's “Point Zero is… now!” they clunk glasses. “To no more Ori! No more Goa'uld!”

Jack was happy to drink to that.

“To victory! To being the good guys!” LD's loud buoyant voice carried far across the pond, like a battle cry.

And that's what they would always be. The good guys. The ones who kicked ass. And the ones raising the next generation of good guys, paying it forward and making sure that when all was said and done, the good guys won the war.

Jack was happy to drink to that, too.

But most importantly. “To family.”

They raised their glasses solemnly. “To family,” the Daniels echoed quietly.

Fin

  



End file.
